


Additive Gestures

by CMRandles



Series: Falling In Love (Is Hard on the Knees) [2]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotionally Repressed, Hurt/Comfort, Latent Homosexuality, M/M, Stalkery, Tony is trying a wee bit too hard, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-08 13:11:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 27,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7759072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMRandles/pseuds/CMRandles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been almost a year since Reed Richards and Doctor Strange had conspired to make Tony and Steve fall ass-over-teakettle in love with one another. It had all been executed in the service of world-saving, but for Tony it struck a deeper chord. Even after the spell had been broken he continued to harbor strong feelings for the super soldier. Feelings that he was assured by Steve himself were not returned. Tony had suspected at the time that Steve wasn’t being entirely honest with himself about the nature of his feelings and had spent the intervening period crafting and executing Operation: Make America Gay Again. Overall, results were mixed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let's Get Physical

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE: You guys! I'm officially a published author! Woo! If you want to check out my book you can find it here: https://www.cmrandles.com/books (it's chock full of juicy romance and gay porn, I promise!)

Captain America ducked just in time to avoid a punch from Black Widow. He dodged again as she launched into a flurry of motion, just barely staying out of her range. She paused, brushing the hair out of her face. 

“You’re distracted today,” Natasha Romanov observed. 

“I am?” Steve Rogers responded, wiping the sweat off of his forehead with a nearby towel. 

“You’re not usually on the defensive.” 

He shrugged and tossed the towel aside. “I can go another round if you can.” 

“Sure,” she agreed and began her assault anew. 

“Pathetic,” came the voice of Clint Barton, pausing between reps on the weight machine. “Getting beaten by a girl.” 

“I’m pretty - ah - sure she beat you handily just - oof!” Steve finished abruptly as Natasha landed a blow on his chest. For such a compact human being she could certainly pack a wallop. 

“Is this a private party or can anyone join?” 

The group looked up to see Tony Stark standing in the doorway with his own workout gear in tow. His shirt was off, the arc reactor glowing softly from the center of his chest. Most notably, he was clad in teeny tiny shorts both the color and sheen of a blue raspberry jolly rancher. 

“My eyes!” Clint wailed, covering his face. 

“Puh-lease, Barton. You wish you could pull this off,” Tony shot back. 

Steve was so captivated by the sight that he let his guard slip and was rewarded by a kick to the stomach that knocked the wind out of him. He went down gasping and Tony couldn’t remember feeling so satisfied in his entire life. 

It had been almost a year since Reed Richards and Doctor Strange had conspired to make Tony and Steve fall ass-over-teakettle in love with one another. It had all been executed in the service of world-saving, but for Tony it struck a deeper chord. Even after the spell had been broken he continued to harbor strong feelings for the super soldier. Feelings that he was assured by Steve himself were not returned. Tony had suspected at the time that Steve wasn’t being entirely honest with himself about the nature of his feelings and had spent the intervening period crafting and executing Operation: Make America Gay Again. Overall, results were mixed. But Tony was going to consider today a runaway success no matter what else unfolded. Steve kept snatching glances at him in his booty shorts out of the corner of his eye - and he wasn’t laughing. 

“You’ve been hitting the gym harder than usual lately,” Clint observed, accosting Tony on his way to the rowing machine. 

“Well, we’re none of us getting any younger.” 

“Uh huh,” Barton said, eyebrow quirked. “And your outfit? Let me guess, it’s from the Olivia Newton John collection?” 

“Good one,” Tony said with a thumbs up, setting his paraphernalia aside and mounting the rowing machine. He made a point of bending  _ way _ over, fiddling with the dials for much longer than was necessary. 

Sighing, Clint went back to his own activity. It was becoming increasingly evident to Natasha that her own workout partner was not going to be able to focus on the task at hand. Not with Tony Stark’s glutes so handy. 

“I need a break,” she announced, climbing out of the ring. 

“Okay,” Steve agreed distractedly. 

Natasha got a drink of water and went to stand by Clint, watching with some amusement as he grunted and strained. She leaned close and said, “Is it just me or is this starting to get slightly ridiculous?” 

“Totally,” Clint agreed through gritted teeth. 

Track Number 3 of his plan to ensnare Captain America involved engaging in Steve’s favorite activities. So far Tony had been to no fewer than seven baseball games, consumed an entire season of a lame cooking show Steve was enthralled with, and was in the gym a solid three times a week. It was more than he had worked out in his entire life and his body was starting to show the results. Where he had been fit before he was now starting to get actual definition. His stomach was flatter, harder, and his arms were starting to accumulate some truly impressive peaks and valleys. He was also tanning on a regular basis, banishing his pasty scientist skin of old. Tony looked good and he knew it. 

“Shoot some hoops later, Cap?” he offered. 

Steve broke from his reverie and nodded slowly. “Sure.” 

Tony managed to school his gigantic stupid grin into something closer to a smirk. He was getting good at this. 

Clint and Natasha exchanged glances and rolled their eyes. 

  
  


Though he would never have admitted it under torture or threat of death, Tony had always been just a little too short to be any good at basketball. Of course, in this instance that was hardly the point. So he wasn’t bothered when another shot he lobbed from mid-court bounced off the rim and sent the ball sailing off into the distance. Steve watched it go with a bemused expression. 

“I’ll go get it,” he said and took off at a jog. 

Tony took the opportunity to catch his breath. Behind him, the door to the court opened. 

“Nat and I are taking off,” Clint said. “By the way, Bruce says it’s his turn to make dinner tonight.” 

“Oh, yay. I love it when Bruce cooks.”

“Anything is better than Thor’s idea of food.” 

“Not a fan of charred but somehow also still raw moose meat?” Tony asked with a smirk. Clint made a gagging face. 

“Speaking of disgusting, how long are you going to keep this up?” He asked in an undertone, jerking his head in the direction of the super soldier who was tossing the ball in the air as he walked back. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Tony said innocently. 

“Right. I’m just saying maybe it’s time for the direct approach before the rest of us yawn ourselves to actual death.” 

“I’m playing the long game, Barton. At this point, the more time we can spend together sweaty and half-naked the better off I’ll be.” 

“Ew,” Clint said succinctly and left. 

“What’d he want?” Steve asked, bouncing the ball to his teammate.

“To remind us not to miss dinner. Bruce is cooking.” 

“Mmm,” Steve intoned with passion. “I love it when Bruce cooks.” 


	2. Black Belt

After dinner (baked ziti and homemade garlic bread that would have made his Nana weep with joy) Tony retreated to the lab. He immediately sat back and got himself lost in data, lining up diagrams, sifting through reports, analyzing the smallest point of information. He was so immersed that it took a wake-up call from JARVIS for him to notice someone banging on the door of his lab. He glanced up and was positively shocked to see Clint Barton on the other side of the glass looking like a lost puppy. Guiltily sweeping away his project from the screens, Tony got up to let the archer in.

“What’d you do?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“I may have accidentally elbowed Nat in the face while we were sparring,” Clint confessed. Tony grimaced in sympathy.

“Are you on the blacklist?” he asked.

Clint nodded. “Can I hide out here for a little while?”

Tony sighed. “I was actually in the middle of something.”

“Maybe I can help?”

Tony leveled an appraising eye at his teammate for a moment. “I don’t think this is the sort of project you’d be interested in.”

Clint frowned. “Aren’t you going through all the stuff we found at that genius kid’s place last year? The little dinky projects that Richards and SHIELD didn’t care about?”

Tony shook his head, turning back to the computer screen and typing a few lines of code. “JARVIS, load Operation: MAGA.”

Clint mouthed the initialism, looking confused. Up popped the reams of data Tony had been consuming only a moment ago along with a truly impressive number of images. The archer let out a whistle.

“What’s this?” he asked, pointing to a large chart that spanned the length of the monitor containing a bar graph coupled with the plotting of what seemed to be different points in time.

“Ah,” Tony said. “That’s tracking interactions versus...um, incidences of another kind. These,” he pointed to the timeline, “are where Steve and I have interacted with each other in a meaningful way; working out together, going out to lunch, that sort of thing. And these are his...activities afterwards.”

“Oh my god,” Barton said, “tell me you’re not watching him masturbate.”

“No! No,” Tony cleared his throat. “Not watching. Just...measuring his levels. Heart rate, skin temperature, that sort of thing.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Clint said, “Well, you have a black belt in stalking. I’ll give you that.”

Tony felt an unexpected shiver of pride.

Clint leaned against the workbench, moving around charts and graphs and notes and images. “So, you’ve been doing all of this for…a year?”

“More or less.”

“I don’t think I”ve ever been that dedicated to...anything,” he observed. “So, you have all this, you’ve been tracking the trends and whatever other creeper business you’ve had up your sleeve. You must have some hard evidence that he is into you.”

Tony nodded. “Sure. It’s pretty obvious at this point.”

“And yet you haven’t done anything about it.”

“What are you talking about? Of course I have. I’ve capitalized on our activities together that provoke the greatest reaction in him. I’ve all but bombarded him with stimuli.”

Clint raised an eyebrow. “And that’s the plan? Overwhelm him until he has no choice but to fall back in bed with you?”

“Something like that. Ideally he’d be sickeningly in love with me as well.”

Barton looked back at the screen, currently displaying an image of Steve he’d taken for promotional purposes a few weeks ago. He was in full Captain America garb, unsmiling, looking sternly into the lens of the camera. He looked like a hard man. An immovable object.

“I guess the only thing left for me to say now is good luck,” Clint sighed.

  


Only a day later, Tony was busted. When Natasha looked through his files on Steve, the stealth operation he had been conducting for the last eight months, she did not seem wowed. Horrified might have been a better descriptor.

“Are you kidding me with this?” she asked, bewildered.

Tony chose to glower at Clint instead, rat that he was. Barton did not look contrite in the least. If nothing else, this particular piece of intel had gotten him back into Natasha’s good graces.

“I take it you’re not impressed,” Tony replied.

“Impressed? Tony, this is the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

The genius billionaire inventor bristled. “I am _not_ creepy.”

“No, but this,” she gestured to the project file, “is. You’re treating your relationship with Steve like it’s a science fair project and you expect me to hand you a trophy. This is a human being, Tony. A real person with real feelings.”

“I know that!” he nearly shouted.

“You’re not acting like it,” she shot back. “Spinning this elaborate plan to, what, drag him to bed?”

“It’s not all about fucking,” Tony said petulantly, feeling more and more like a child who had drawn a masterpiece and was quibbling with his caretaker over the fact that it was done on the living room wall. “I care about him.”

“Do you love him?” Natasha asked with all the subtlety of a panzer.

“Sure,” Tony agreed, his heart racing.

“This,” she gestured at the screen again, “is not how you treat someone you love, Tony. You’re acting like people are thinking machines that have feelings. No, we’re _feeling_ machines that are capable of thinking. Sometimes. But even under the best of circumstances it’s our emotions that drive us.”

“I know that! Why do you think I’ve been doing all this work? Pulling the two of us together slowly inch by inch.”

“No, what you’ve been doing is _manipulating_ him. Trying to force your way over or through what Steve is grappling with and overwhelming him.”

“He’s into me, it’s all right there in the data.”

Natasha turned and with a few clicks on the keyboard erased the file before them.

“Hey!” Tony shouted, starting forward. The look on Natasha’s face held him in place.

“Of course he’s into you. We all know that. Even Clint knows that and he is only barely aware of what’s going on at any given moment.”

“Huh?” Clint said, looking up from the improvised thumb war he was engaged in with DUM-E.

“ _Everyone_ knows that Steve is attracted to you, that he probably feels the same way about you that you do about him. But he’s struggling with it, Tony. That’s also completely evident. He’s from the nineteen forties. He’s Captain America. He’s the embodiment of the red-blooded male, the ideal for masculinity. Did you think that if you gave him enough erections he’d just get over this life-altering realization and come rushing into your arms?”

Tony looked down at the floor and mumbled something.

“Excuse me?” Natasha prompted sternly.

“Yeah, kinda,” Tony said more loudly.

The russian assassin sighed. “You’re an idiot. You’re all idiots.”

“What did I do?!” Clint bleated.

Tony slumped into his desk chair, leaning it back and facing his teammate with a glower. “Okay, then, Ms. smarty pants. If you know so much about the human mind, what do you suggest I do?”

“For one thing, you should quit skulking around and just talk to him. Tell him how you feel.”

“Tried that,” Tony interjected. “It didn’t go super well.”

“Then try again. In a different, more human way. _Help_ him through the crisis he may be experiencing. Be there for him. Be patient.”

Natasha’s voice softened while she spoke.

Tony looked away, suddenly terrified that he might be overcome with emotion. “Why…”he started, then cleared his throat again. “Why is it so hard for him to want me?”

“It’s not,” Natasha said, approaching and perching herself on the desk in front of Tony. “There is something between you, there’s no doubt of that. But this is heavy stuff. It’s going to take time for him to grapple with that. And he might spend a fair amount of time running away from it.”

“Don’t get discouraged,” Clint piped up. “If anyone knows what the right thing to do is in any given situation it’s Steve Rogers.”

Tony looked up into the smiling faces of his friends and let his shoulder slump. “But I wanna have _sex_ ,” he whined.

“And that’s my cue to go throw up and die,” Clint rejoined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am having so much fun with this! Thanks to everyone who encouraged me to write a sequel. I was truly inspired by all of the enthusiasm and interest. I hope you like this story just as much as the first one. Please keep sending your comments and kudos - they feed my fickle writer's soul.


	3. Project Afterbirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony learns that relationships are not like math problems and Philip Landers gets himself a new home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably one of those times when you might want to have read the previous work (Preventative Measures) in order to understand what's coming. In case you haven't, it's worth mentioning that Philip Landers is a young genius whose early projects caused a lot of problems for the Avengers and really kicked off the entire plot of the previous story. And if you don't know, now you know. Enjoy!

The drive to Phillip Landers’s house was a strange one. Bruce, who had been not only roped into accompanying Tony on this adventure but also into driving the whole way, was expecting some companionable chit-chat about what they were to discuss with the young genius. Instead, what he got was a deluge of Tony Stark’s nonsense. 

“And so she says that it’s the creepiest thing she ever saw and tells me that I have to shut it down and talk to him about it. Read him a poem from my diary or something, I don’t know. And what I keep trying to explain to her is that this is  _ science _ , I’m just trying to collect  _ data _ .” 

“Tony-” Bruce interjected to little effect. 

“Because what else am I supposed to do? Go into a battle unarmed? I mean, you’d think she’d know this what with all her secret weapons and her spy shit. It’s not like she didn’t check up on every little detail about me before we started working together. So, I ask you, is it wrong for me to do the same?” 

The genius paused for breath and Banner seized his opportunity. 

“She’s right, Tony.” 

Stark looked confused. “I’m sorry?” 

“Natasha is right,” Bruce repeated, glancing from the road to his perplexed companion. “It is creepy.” 

“Wha? Really? I expected you to be on my side of this!” 

“You did? Why?” 

Flustered, Tony considered for a moment and realized he didn’t have a clear reason for that assumption. “I don’t know...I guess I just thought you’d...get it,” he finished lamely, gesturing into the space out in front of him. 

Bruce cleared his throat. “Look, it’s not that I don’t get it. I do. You care about him. And you want to make it work. But everything Natasha said is right. You can’t force this, Tony. You can’t solve it like a giant equation.” 

“Why not?” Tony demanded. 

“Because that’s not how it works. I’m not an expert on relationships, far from it. But I do know that if Steve’s not taking the openings you’ve given him then it’s probably because he’s not ready to. Or he really doesn’t want to, whatever your data says.” 

“How am I supposed to know which one it is?” Tony asked. 

“You have to tell him. Lay it all out on the table. Say how you feel clearly, then ask him how he feels and  _ listen _ to the answer.” 

Tony sighed, looking petulant. “Can’t we just fight a dragon or something? I’m shit at this relationship business.” 

“It has been kind of quiet lately, hasn’t it?” Bruce mused, grateful for the subject change. 

“Seems that way.” 

“Maybe we’ve scared all the bad guys off?” 

Tony shrugged. “Or maybe they’re gearing up for something massive.” 

  
  


The door to 421 Oak Street opened to reveal a middle-aged woman pulling a vacuum cleaner behind her. She observed the two men outside her door for a moment, before jumping into action. 

“Oh my, oh my goodness!” she cried. 

“Can Philip come out to play?” Tony said, smiling dazzlingly from over the top of his expensive sunglasses. 

“Oh, of course. PHILIP!” she screamed, loudly enough to make the two men wince. The vacuum cleaner clattered to the floor behind her and she cupped her hands around her mouth. “PHILP, GET DOWN HERE!” 

A heavyset man of fifty or so appeared behind her in the doorway, looking at their unexpected visitors with narrowed eyes. 

“Is he in some kind of trouble?” the man rumbled, “We already dealt with-” 

“No, sir. No further trouble. We’re here with good news, actually,” Bruce said calmly. 

A teenager, rail thin and spotted with acne, appeared at the bottom of the stairs. He froze when he saw two of the Avengers on his front porch. He seemed to consider his options, genius brain running at full speed, then he haltingly took a step forward into the living room. 

“Hi Philip!” Tony said cheerily. “Long time no see. You remember us, right?” 

“Doctor Banner, Mr. Stark,” the young man said warily. His shaggy brown hair drooped over his glasses and he pushed it aside irritably. “What do you want?” 

“Philip,” his mother chided. “Won’t you come inside, gentlemen?”

“Actually, we’d like Philip to come with us. Don’t look like that, buddy, you’re not under arrest or anything. It’s a good surprise. I promise. C’mon. You don’t mind, do you?” Tony asked, looking into the suspicious eyes of Philip’s father. “We’ll have him back before supper. Scouts honor.” 

The parents exchanged a glance, communicating telepathically as all people who’ve been married for more than half their lives, and Philip’s mother nodded. “Have fun.” 

“Were you really a scout?” Philip asked as the door shut behind him. 

“Hell, no. But I did once eat a Brownie” Tony answered and pushed his sunglasses up. 

  
  


“Stark Industries?” Philip said quietly, peering out the window at the enormous building before them. “What are we doing here?” 

“Giving you a tour of your new lab,” Tony said, hopping out of the front seat and opening the young man’s door for him. “Bruce and I designed it ourselves.” 

Philip Landers stood in the middle of the parking lot looking completely lost. “What?” he said after a moment. 

“Come on, kid, we’ll explain on the way.” Bruce gave him a gentle nudge and Philip started moving, almost like he was in a trance. 

“So, let me just make sure I understand. Almost a year ago you guys wanted me arrested and thrown in jail-” 

“Not true,” Tony interjected. “ _ We _ guys wanted your lab shut down and your projects under surveillance.  _ We guys _ kept you out of prison, young padawan.” 

“Okay, but whatever. I mean, I end up almost in jail and now you’re telling me you’re giving me my own lab? At  _ Stark Industries _ ?” 

“That’s about the long and short of it.” 

Tony reached out and clipped an ID badge to the front of Philip’s t-shirt (which read “Stand back, I'm going to try science”). “You’ll need this to get in. Your lab is down here on the first floor, third door to the left. This keycard will get you into the building and into your own lab, but nowhere else. Well, maybe the break room. But not the fancy one with the good donuts.” 

The young man looked down at his own chest with wide eyes. “You still haven’t told me that you are not fucking with me.” 

“We are not fucking with you,” Bruce said, and opened the door. 

The facility beyond was state-of-the art. Tony guided them around the room, pointing out the various pieces of equipment, laboratory gear, and a few items that he himself had designed. Philip followed, his eyes wide, an enormous smile growing on his face with every step. 

“What do you think?” Tony asked with a flourish. 

“It’s... _ amazing _ . Thank you so much, Mr. Stark. Doctor Banner,” he turned to each of them looking so earnest it was a wonder they didn’t all cry. 

“Well, let’s not all hug and sing kumbaya just yet” Tony said, perching atop one of the work tables. “There exactly two conditions to this sweet sweet deal.” He held up his fingers and ticked them off one by one. “First, those things.” He pointed to the ceiling where several cameras were mounted. Philip’s reverent expression crumpled almost immediately. 

“People will be watching me,” he said, crestfallen. 

“Phil. Kiddo. You almost destroyed the world. Of course we’re going to be watching you.” 

“That was an accident!” Philip protested automatically. 

“I know it was,” Bruce said, “And we, the Avengers, trust you. We really do, or we wouldn’t have done all of this. But with the stuff you’re working with you can’t expect to go without any oversight at all.” 

“These cameras connect directly to my own lab at the tower,” Tony said. “They’re a direct line to me and nowhere else. I’m going to be the only one watching.” 

Philip frowned, considering. 

“And on the up side,” Tony continued with a grin, “if you need my help at all I’ll already have all the back story. You won’t have to repeat yourself.” 

“What am I supposed to work on?” the young man asked, crossing his arms over his narrow chest. “You guys took all my stuff.” 

“Please,” Tony said cocking his head. “Don’t even try to play me. It’s been a year, Phil, do you really expect us to believe you have zero irons in the fire?” 

“Well…” the young man conceded with a small smile. “There are a few things.” 

“Yeah, and speaking of which,” Tony said, hopping down and snagging his phone. He swiped the phone and an image appeared on one of the nearby monitors. It was of a device they had first seen in the Lander’s family basement nine months ago. At the sight of it, Philip Landers himself went white as a sheet. 

“Thought you might have gotten that one under the radar, am I right?” Tony asked. “You almost did. SHIELD didn’t care about it, Reed Richards didn’t even notice, but Bruce and I saw it when we were going through the last eensy weensy little bits of debris from your former lab. And then we showed it to our friend Steve Rogers and he had a few things to say about it.” 

“You did?” Philip squeaked.

“No, actually, we didn’t. He would have gone through the roof, though, let me tell you. Because this looks an awful lot like a the cradle used in a top secret affair called Project Rebirth.” 

“I didn’t-” Phillip began but Bruce held up his hand. 

“Our second condition is that you look me in the eye and swear that you will never again attempt to recreate the super soldier serum or  _ anything _ from Project Rebirth,” he said, his voice calm but deadly serious. 

Philip looked back and forth between the two men. “I came pretty close, didn’t I?” 

“Closer than anyone ever has,” Tony admitted. 

There was a beat of silence. Philip looked down at his shoes. His eyes were darting back and forth very quickly. 

“Let me be very clear,” Bruce continued, stepping into the boy’s personal space. “You keep messing with this stuff, let’s say you move into actual human trials, and the  _ best case _ scenario, the absolute top you can expect - is that ‘no one likes you when you’re angry’. Get it? I’m the living example of the only good thing that’s ever come out of trying to recreate Doctor Erskine’s work. Worst case?” 

Tony whistled. “Man, I have seen some messes I cannot unsee. Better men than all of us have tried to recreate Project Rebirth and it has turned into an epic shit show every single time. No offense,” he said casting his eyes to Bruce. 

“None taken,” his friend replied. 

“But if I came so close -” 

“All the more reason to give it up, kid. The devil is in the details. You don’t want to mess with this stuff. No one wants you to mess with this stuff. Just promise me that you’ll leave it alone, ok?” 

Philip sighed. “Okay.”

“Let me be clear,” Tony said, pointing a finger in the young man’s face, “if I catch so much as a whiff that you are working on super soldier bullshit again I will come over and here and take all of this away so fast it will make your head spin. And then maybe next time I won’t work so hard to keep your ass out of jail. You feel me?” 

“I get it!” Landers said, raising his hands in the universal gesture of innocence. 

“Great! Now here’s the part where you say ‘gee, thanks mister stark for setting me up with this swell laboratory, I can’t wait to get started on improving humanity’s experience.’ And then I say ‘you’re welcome, kiddo, make us proud’ and pat your back and then Bruce and I go home.”

Philip smiled wryly. “You can just fill that all in yourself, right?” 

“Right,” Bruce said, though he did still pat him on the back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Our heroes contend with a fancy dress party and a new enemy makes itself known. 
> 
> Note: Philip Landers's t-shirt is a real thing. It can be had here: http://store.xkcd.com/products/try-science 
> 
> Thanks for all of the encouragement - comments, kudos, and so forth. I am having a lot of fun with this project so far and I hope you'll all enjoy where it goes from here. Please keep your feedback coming - every little bit helps!


	4. Dance Dance Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nodus interruptus leads to black-tie drinking leads to a southern belle culminating in a crushing realization for our hero.

Tony tried, he really did, but it still took three days to work up the nerve. What was he to do, after all, when he was so swamped with work? He had to redesign the Iron Man armor for the umpteenth time, work on some minor improvements to Clint’s bow, enhance the engine power to the jet by .05% and other...stuff. He found himself almost wishing for a devastating attack on the city to keep them all busy, but no such tragedy unfolded. So he found himself outside of Steve’s private apartment in Avengers Tower, sweating and dry-mouthed like a teenager. He raised his hand to knock and instead the door opened under it. 

“Oh!” Steve said, confronted with a disheveled Tony Stark not two inches in front of him. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” Tony said, backing off to a safe distance. “I was coming to see you.” 

Steve gave him a wry look. “I had guessed that on my own, actually. What’s up?” 

“Do you want to, uh, get dinner somewhere tonight? Just you and I?” He sounded so pathetic to his own ears that it actually made him wince. 

“Uh, sure. I mean, I’d like to, but isn’t there a thing tonight?” Steve answered, looking mildly confused. 

“A thing?” Tony repeated, brow furrowed. “Am I missing a thing, J?” 

The smooth tones of his AI answered him. “The Stark Industries annual fundraising gala is this evening, sir. Miss Potts asks that you arrive promptly at eight.” 

“Shit.” 

Steve took in his teammate’s expression and asked, “You okay?” 

“Sure,” Tony said, turning away and running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, fine. Just…” 

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Steve answered for him. All Tony had to do was nod. 

It was at this same fundraiser a year ago that Stephen Strange cast the “love spell” that had ensnared both men. Tony could still feel the way the fire had coursed through his veins when the spell took effect. All he had wanted, his singular point of focus in the entire world, had been to get his hands on Steve. It was the first step down a road that would eventually destroy what friendship they had and put them squarely in this intensely awkward spot. 

“I would suggest that we blow it off, except that...well, it’s for a good cause,” Steve said. 

“Yeah, right. Well, I think I’m going to give it a miss either way.” 

“Really? It’s  _ your _ party. Won’t it seem strange if you’re not there?” 

“Nah. It’s Pepper’s party, it just has my name on it.” 

Steve paused, then said as gently as he could. “Will it be too weird seeing her?” 

Tony considered. It actually wouldn’t be as weird to see and interact with Pepper as it would be Reed Richards. He was still pretty pissed off with Mister Fantastic. “No,” he said with a sigh. “It’s just the whole...thing.” 

“I get it,” Steve said, leaning back against the closed door. “I’d stay home with you in solidarity, but I promised Pepper I’d be there. I was just leaving to go pick up my suit. Pepper asked if I still had my old dress blues. Turns out they were still in storage, but boy did they need cleaning.” 

Momentarily arrested by the mental image of Steve in his dress uniform, Tony was unable to form speech. 

“Wanna come with me? The cleaners is next to a great deli. We can sneak in a grinder before the shindig?” 

“Grinder? Shindig? Sneak? Why, Captain America, are you coming onto me?” Tony asked with a flirtatious batting of his eyelashes.

Steve blushed just enough to be adorable. “Are you coming with me or not?” 

“Sure, but only because you asked so nicely,” Tony said, and linked their arms together. 

  
  


Hours later Tony donned his tuxedo, carefully coifed his hair into his signature tousled mess, and tucked his sunglasses into the pocket of his coat even though it was clearly after dark. The entire time he was getting ready he spent mentally rehearsing what he would say to Steve at the gala that night. He would get him alone in a secluded corner and would pour out his heart. He had considered and rejected several tactics via which he might accomplish this aim and finally settled on extemporising his feelings in the moment. With the addition of some liquid courage, of course. 

He met Clint and Natasha in the hallway, both looking stunningly well put together in their black-tie garb. Natasha wolf-whistled at him as he passed, which made Tony feel unaccountably pleased. He knocked on the door of Steve’s apartment and heard the owner answer, “Come in!” 

Only a little flustered, he did so. “You ready to go, Cap? Limo is waiting.” 

“One minute. I can’t seem to get this damn tie,” the super soldier answered through gritted teeth. 

Tony entered the bathroom and found a red-faced Steve wrestling with his tie as though it were a hellbeast. He was enrobed, as promised, in his military dress uniform and looked just as fantastic as he had in Tony’s heated imagination. He was staggeringly handsome, in point of fact. To his credit, Tony managed to keep all of the drool in his mouth and approached to lend a hand. 

“Let me,” he offered, turning Steve by the shoulders to face him. “I’ve been tying a tie since before I could walk.” 

Steve raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like an exaggeration.” 

“I wish it was,” Tony answered, deftly undoing the damage the super soldier had already rendered on the offending garment. 

Standing this close to Steve and smelling his subtly spicy aftershave was overwhelming. A memory, unbidden, rushed into Tony’s mind forcing him into the not-so-distant past when Tony had gone to his knees in this very room and wrapped his lips around Steve’s hard cock. Steve’s skin had been hot then, as it was now, and the  _ noises _ he had made.  

And now Tony was getting an erection.  _ Fantastic. _

He finished knotting the tie at Steve’s throat, tucked the tails into the front of his teammate’s jacket and then paused. He smoothed a hand down the front of the tie, letting his fingers linger. Then, heart racing, he ventured a glance up at the man inside the uniform. Steve was looking at him with an unreadable expression. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t look embarrassed, disgusted, or even uncomfortable. Tony swallowed. Steve leaned in almost unconsciously making himself available. His fingers brushed along the side of Tony’s jacket. Tony tilted his chin up, parted his lips...

“Hey!” Clint yelled outside the door making them both jump. “Are you two coming?” 

Steve was the first to step back, regarding himself in the mirror and adjusting his jacket with a couple of sharp tugs. 

“Looks great. Thanks, Tony.” 

“Anytime,” the other man said, jaw clenched. 

“We’re coming,” Steve announced, switching the light off behind them. 

While they walked down the stairs together Tony punched Clint in the arm - hard. 

“Ow!” the archer cried, rubbing the sore spot. “What the hell?” 

Tony just glowered at him.

  
  


The Avengers arrived having blown past fashionably late and well into considerably tardy. Pepper Potts, who was standing outside in her Armani gown waiting for them, managed a polite smile when the crew rolled up. She waited impatiently for them to stand and ham it up for the cameras. Or at least that’s what Tony was doing. Everyone else fell on a spectrum between coolly disinterested and fully panicking. Once that dog and pony show was over she took Tony’s arm and all but dragged him inside. 

“When I said ‘promptly at eight’, did I stutter?” she hissed. 

“Probably not. You do slur a little sometimes, but only when you’re drunk. It’s cute.” 

She rolled her eyes. “We had to delay the bachelor auction because our star merchandise wasn’t  _ here _ .” 

“Bachelor wha?” he asked, accepting a glass of champagne from a nearby attendant. 

Pepper sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You, Steve, and Bruce all agreed to be auctioned off for the fundraiser. Remember?” 

Tony did not remember this. Not one little bit. But looking at Steve, uncomfortably clutching a champagne flute while people chatted all around him, he felt himself smile. “This, this is  _ excellent _ news.” 

  
  


The party turned out to be a much less awkward affair than Tony would have imagined. He spent most of the evening hanging out with Logan (perpetually scruffy and abrasive even in black tie) and Clint making fun of the other nitwits in their fancy dress. He and Reed Richards made eye contact from across the room briefly, Richards raising his glass in acknowledgement, before Tony turned and walked away. Stephen Strange seemed to have avoided the event altogether.

At one point not long after they all arrived a woman in a purple satin gown turned and spilled her martini all over Steve. Thankfully it was a straight up vodka martini and not some frilly colored drink or he would have been in serious trouble. Nevertheless, she squealed in distress, grabbing a handful of napkins and blotting at him furiously. 

“I am so  _ so _ sorry,” she cried. 

“It’s quite all right,” Steve assured her, barely ruffled. 

Tony watched this exchange out of the corner of his eye. Some distant alarm bells were going off in his mind, but he paid them little heed. After all, it’s not like the pinnacle of human perfection could go out and not get a little attention from the ladies. 

“You  _ have _ to send me the bill,” the woman insisted. “Promise me.” 

“That’s really not necessary,” the super soldier insisted, beginning to look a little uncomfortable with the attention she was drawing. “It’ll come right out with a little club soda.” 

This made the woman in purple titter loudly. “Club soda? Oh my  _ gawd _ , you are so cute.” She had a southern accent and even went so far as to fan herself with a hand as she talked. Tony was liking her less and less. 

“Vanessa Fielding,” she said, extending her hand. “Of the Atlanta Fieldings.” 

Steve took her small hand and seemed torn about what to do with it. Finally, he settled on shaking it. Natasha’s lectures about feminism were starting to sink in. “Steve Rogers.” 

Tony slowly made his way closer to the conversation, waving away Logan’s raised eyebrows at his departure. He finished his glass of champagne and snagged another on his way. 

“Oh, I know who you are, honey,” Vanessa drawled. “Charles simply  _ doesn’t _ stop talking about you and your other Avenger pals.” 

“Charles?” Tony said from right behind her. 

“Why, Charles Xavier of course,” she said without missing a beat. She offered Tony her hand as well, which he shook. “It’s nice of you to join us, Mister Stark.” 

“Well, I heard the sounds of a scuffle and I just couldn’t stay away,” he said with a smile directed at Steve. 

“Always heaving yourselves into the fray, aren’t you,” Vanessa observed. 

“Do you work...with Charles Xavier?” Steve asked. 

“Well, that depends on your perspective, darlin. I’m here trying to learn a thing or two from him so that I can start my own institute down south. There’s starting to be enough... _ different _ people in the world that they can’t all be housed at one single location. We’ve got to branch out, you know.” 

Tony was floored. “You’re planning to start your  _ own _ institute?” 

“God willing,” she confirmed as though this weren’t the craziest idea anyone had ever had. 

“Are you...do you…” Steve stumbled, trying to find the right way to ask if she was a mutant. 

“Sure, have been all my life,” she answered his unarticulated question. “And I just think what Charles does out here is so  _ so _ wonderful.” 

“It is,” Steve confirmed with a nod. 

“Listen, it was nice to meet you Mrs. Fielding-” 

“ _ Miss, _ ” she corrected him with a significant look at Steve. 

“ _ Miss _ Fielding, but I’ve got to steal the big guy here for a minute. Mingling for a good cause and all that.” 

“Why, of course. Don’t let me stop you. So nice to meet both of you.” She gave a simpering little smile and waggled her fingers. 

“You too,” Steve said and let himself be led away. 

Tony guided Steve by his elbow towards the other end of the ballroom where there was a small balcony. There were a few other people milling around on it, mostly smoking and talking. They were able to find a mostly-secluded spot in the corner where Tony loosened his tie and leaned against the railing. 

“Starting her own institute for mutants?” Steve asked, then whistled. “Ambitious lady.” 

“Or just stupid. Some people can’t tell the difference.” 

Steve gave him a sharp look, the one that subtly informed Tony he was being an ass. 

“Fresh air feels nice,” the super soldier observed, leaning against the railing beside his friend. “Parties like this aren’t really my strong suit.” 

“Too much human interaction?” Tony asked. 

Steve shook his head. “Nah, I just don’t know what to say. It seems like everyone is expecting me to be some smooth talker and the truth is that I’m better with my fists then with my words.” 

“I don’t know, I think that was particularly well put,” Tony said with a smile. Steve shook his head, but he was smiling too. 

They were both quiet for a moment, listening to the music thudding from the room behind them. Tony chugged the rest of his champagne and set the empty glass unsteadily on the railing. He was beginning to feel pleasantly dizzy. “Steve,” he said taking a deep breath, “I need to tell you something.” 

The blonde man furrowed his brow and nodded. “Okay. What’s up?” 

Another deep breath. In and out. Tony’s hands were shaking. 

“The truth is that I-” 

His words were drowned in a swell of music that burst their bubble of seclusion when the door was thrown open. Natasha swept her gaze across the balcony until it landed on her teammates. 

“You two,” she announced, “the auction is about to start. Pepper has been looking everywhere for you. If you know what’s good for you you’ll get your asses over to the stage five minutes ago.” 

“You heard the lady,” Steve said with a crooked smile. “We can talk later, alright?” 

“Yeah,” Tony said, and sighed. “Later.” 

  
  


Steve took the stage first and Tony watched from the audience trying to keep the stupid lovesick grin off his face. The audience exploded in hoots and hollers at the sight of Captain America cutting such a fine figure in his uniform. Pepper, who was acting as emcee, couldn’t be heard over the roar of the crowd even with the benefit of her microphone. Steve, for his part, accepted the catcalling with stilted grace, waving and smiling in his “aw shucks” way. 

“Well, I guess that means he needs no introduction,” Pepper said through laughter when the fanfare died down. “You all know our beloved Captain America!” 

The crowd went ballistic again. Steve blushed. 

“Who wants to start the bidding on this handsome devil?” Pepper asked. “How about five hundred dollars?” 

Tony thrust his hand into the air with no hesitation. “Five thousand!” 

There was a hush. 

“Wow,” Pepper said, “way to start us off, Tony!” 

“What she means is ‘way to show off, Tony!’” Clint hollered. 

Everyone laughed. Tony shrugged, reaching for the cool guy persona that was always so readily available to him. “What can I say? Red, white, and blue are my favorite colors.” 

There was a smattering of laughter. Tony glanced up at his quarry and was dumbstruck. Steve was staring at him, no,  _ glaring _ at him. Two bright spots of red were evident high on his cheekbones. His fists were clenched at his sides. Up there on stage was the perfect poster child for barely contained fury. 

Realization slammed home in that instant. Everything his friends had been trying to tell him over the past week crystallized in Tony’s brilliant mind. Steve didn’t want to be gay. Which meant that he didn’t want to be with Tony and nothing,  _ nothing _ he said or did was going to change that. Just the implication that he and Tony might be obligated to go on a date because of this bogus fundraiser had Steve so furious he could scarcely keep it together. It wasn’t going to happen. All of the energy went out of Tony in a  _ whoosh _ of breath and it was all he could do to keep standing. 

A perfectly manicured hand appeared at the corner of his vision. “Six thousand!” a woman yelled. 

The crowd made ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ noises. Vanessa Fielding batted her eyelashes and did her best to look innocent. “I think it’s quite a good deal,” she said. Everyone laughed. 

“Any other bids?” Pepper asked, scanning the crowd. 

No one said anything. 

“Six thousand going once, twice...sold! Congratulations!” 

Steve saluted Miss Fielding, who wiggled her fingers back at him, and hopped down from the stage. 

Pepper continued, “Next we have a fellow Avenger, you all know him as Iron Man. Let’s hear it for Tony Stark!” 

The crowd exploded. The spotlight swiveled to the spot where Tony had been standing. It was empty. Everyone looked around, murmuring their surprise and dismay. 

“Tony?” Pepper repeated in a warning tone. 

Everyone turned around and around trying to catch a glimpse of the billionaire, but it was no use. Tony Stark was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I'm a terrible person. I do realize this. I promise all the pain and suffering will be worthwhile. 
> 
> Next time: The plot, she thickens.


	5. Putting Out Fires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve has feels and the city is on fire.

When Steve arrived home hours later, weary and irate, he simply stood in the middle of the common area for a long time. The entire night his mind had been working, turning over and over his recent interactions with Tony and trying to make them make sense. Now, as he loosened his tie and slipped the jacket from his shoulders, he found he was still frustratingly lost. 

“JARVIS?” he asked “Where is Tony right now?” 

“Sir is in his workshop, Captain.” 

Steve sighed. 

“It might benefit you to know,” the AI continued in a neutral tone, “that sir has consumed approximately one third of a bottle of scotch.” 

Steve sighed again, more forcefully. “Great.” 

He stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the back of the couch and considered what to do. There was the obvious choice, the one that had been staring him in the face for weeks now, which was to go and talk to Tony directly. Put it all out on the table. Alternately, he could stick the tactic that had been serving him for months now - avoid the whole damn thing. Steve had a particular fondness for that option.  

“What should I do?” he asked, feeling stupid for even posing the question. 

“I’m afraid any advice I were to provide would be dependent upon a number of factors, Captain. I do not currently possess enough data to make an informed suggestion,” JARVIS responded. 

Steve opened his mouth to acknowledge the complexity of his situation when Natasha’s quiet voice spoke from behind him. 

“Are you allowed to phone a friend?” 

She was pulling off her expensive satin shoes as she spoke, rubbing her feet and wincing. 

“I thought you went to dinner with everyone else,” he said. 

“These damn things were killing me,” she gestured at the shoes, “Having experienced actual torture, I can say with authority that spending a night in heels ranks up there with thumb screws.” 

Steve nodded. “I don’t envy you.” 

“Hm, funny, I feel the same way.” Natasha approached, leaning against the back of the couch beside him. “Man troubles?” 

This provoked a furious blush. Natasha jostled her teammate with her shoulder, smiling slightly. 

“Want to dish? I can get some ice cream.” 

“Then we can paint each other's nails?” Steve asked with a note of derision. “I’ll pass.” 

“There’s no shame in it, Steve,” Natasha said with a gentle directness that only she could manage. 

Steve could think of no suitable response. His desire to run away and punch something was increasing with every passing second. 

“He doesn’t mean to be an asshole. You know that.” 

“He does an awfully good job of hiding it, then,” Steve said. 

Natasha nodded. “That’s true. He’s had a lot of practice. But we all know him well enough to look past that. You know what he’s really like. And you know how he feels about you.” 

Steve got up and started pacing. “Do I? Trying to figure out Tony is like....trying to get a read on a submarine. You think you’ve got it and then it dives down and disappears. Shows up later in a completely different place.” Steve ran a hand through his hair and added, “Everything is such a joke to him.” 

“That’s called dissembling,” Natasha observed. “It’s a defense mechanism.” 

“If…” he trailed off, took a breath, wandered around the room a few steps. “If the whole thing with Richards hadn’t happened, maybe it would seem less complicated. But that...I just don’t trust any of it.” 

“It did muddy the waters considerably,” the redhead acknowledged, “but it’s not insurmountable, Steve. I would argue that the more significant obstacle is your unwillingness to admit that you have feelings for him at all.” 

His head snapped up, regarding Natasha with narrowed eyes. She faced his scrutiny implacably. 

In his pocket, Steve’s phone made a distinctive chiming sound. 

Natasha stood up in a rush. “What is it?” 

Steve pulled out his phone and read the message. “It’s time to Assemble.” 

  
  


The Avengers gathered in various states of formal dress at the corner of 4th and Park Ave, where the orange tendrils of fire were just visible in the distance. 

“What are we looking at?” Clint asked. 

“Not sure yet. We need to get in and assess the situation, move any bystanders to safety, and then we can focus on containing or putting out the fire,” Captain America responded. 

“Where’s Tony?” Bruce asked, looking around. 

“Occupied,” Natasha answered simply. 

“Do we have knowledge of whence this inferno came?” Thor asked, freeing his long hair from its ponytail. 

“Not yet. Let’s get in there and see what we can find out. Thor, you focus on containing the fire. Bruce and Natasha, you clear the area. Clint, come with me and let’s see what we can see.” 

“Got it,” the archer acknowledged, swinging his bow over his shoulder. 

“What about me?” a slightly muzzy voice said over the comms. 

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “How did you know where we were?” 

“JARVIS, the soul of loyalty, informed me of your treachery. Thanks for trying to leave me out, by the way. Last time I checked I still had a seat at the cool kids table,” Tony said, his tone clipped with anger. 

“Yeah, well, he also told me that you were three sheets to the wind,” Steve snapped back. “You need to sit this one out.” 

“Give me a break,” Iron Man responded, swooping into view in the sky above them. “I’ve operated heavy machinery  _ way _ more drunk than this.” 

“Iron Man,” Steve said in a tone that brooked no argument. “You’re benched. Go home.” 

Tony ignored him, zipping off towards the fire without another word. 

“Damn it,” Captain America said quietly. “All right, let’s go.” 

  
  


Thor was the first to arrive, standing a safe distance away and surveying the inferno with a critical eye. “I can remove the oxygen necessary for the blaze to continue,” he said, “but it would be best if the area were cleared first so as to cause no further damage.” 

“On it,” Natasha replied, maneuvering through the crowded streets in a commandeered vehicle. She and Bruce focused on finding and clearing the sooty and scorched people from the surrounded area, ushering them into the bed of the truck. 

Meanwhile, Tony was busy blowing up fire hydrants. 

“What’s the plan, Iron Man?” Clint shouted into the comms when he noticed that another piece of city property had exploded, letting loose a geyser of water. 

“Uh, fighting fire. Duh,” came the snarky response. 

Steve just clenched his jaw and focused on getting as close as he could, pushing debris aside. 

“This isn’t a normal fire,” Bruce informed them. “It’s burning way too hot. It was probably started by some kind of chemical reaction.” 

“An explosion?” Steve asked. 

“Maybe.” 

“All civilians are clear,” Natasha announced. “Do your stuff, Thor.” 

“As you say,” the demi-god responded, spinning his hammer in the air. 

Clouds gathered. The skies darkened. LIghtning flashed and a huge gust of wind crashed through the city. It coalesced like a tornado, but then suddenly reversed itself, getting sucked back up into the sky. The fire died out immediately. 

“Cool trick,” Tony acknowledged, clapping his armored hands. He took off into the air, looking around for the source of the blaze. “Hey, I found a giant hole in the ground. That seem important to anyone?” 

They gathered over the steaming crater, looking down into the scorched space beyond. The road above the blast site had been blown outward in a hundred pieces, chunks of asphalt could be found as far as half a mile away. Cars were scattered around the area like Hot Wheels played with by a rowdy toddler. None of the surrounding buildings had actually collapsed, but most were damaged heavily, some with sizeable chunks out of their exterior. 

“EMS is on the way,” Clint said, crouching down and peering into the hole. “They’re rounding up the injured people. Hey, is that a...body?” 

They all looked. There did appear to be a charred skeleton in the bottom of the pit, all of its flesh and muscle having been torched off. 

“This looks an awful lot like an underground lair to me,” Tony said. He stepped off the ledge and lowered himself slowly into the area below. 

“Hold on,” Steve ordered, “we don’t know what’s down there.” 

“Only one way to find out,” Tony said and landed at the bottom. He activated the beams on the armor and shone them around like a collection of very bright flashlights. He narrated his progress to the rest of the team. “Yup, that’s definitely a body. And there’s some other stuff here, mostly melted.” 

He poked around the equipment while the others stood above him, Steve crossing his arms and frowning. 

“Oh, man, this is  _ definitely _ an underground lair. All sorts of half-melted or fully destroyed scientific equipment down here. Looks like MIT had a fire sale. Why can’t evil geniuses build their laboratories on the ground floor? I mean,  _ I _ have a lab that’s above ground and it works just fine.” 

“Any idea what sort of evil this particular villain was messing with?” Bruce asked. 

“Not as such. We’ll have to sift through all the bits and pieces before we get an idea. But on the up side, there’s nothing else down here that looks like it’s going to explode,” Tony said. 

Which was when something underneath him exploded. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another cliffhanger?! 
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos! Keep your feedback coming - I love your input. More to come soon!


	6. Burns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony's situation is assessed but his relationship does not improve.

“Mr. Stark, this is the last time I’m going to ask you. Please put the phone down.” 

Tony faced the doctor with naked defiance, holding his phone all the more tightly. While his attention was diverted, Steve stepped forward and plucked the phone out of his teammate’s hand. He ignored Tony’s cry of protest, tucking the phone in the pocket of his uniform and crossing his arms. 

“Whose side are you on?” Tony accused. 

“Theirs, obviously,” Steve retorted. 

It had been a long night for the Avengers. After the explosion, Steve had rushed Tony to SHIELD’s medical facility; riding alongside his teammate as EMT’s pried half-melted pieces of metal from his skin. Tony had arched his back and  _ screamed _ until he finally passed out. Once the emergency surgeries were behind them and Tony was stabilized, Steve sat at his bedside unable to look away as nurses cleaned and bandaged Tony’s terribly burned legs. 

Then those long eyelashes had fluttered and Tony opened his eyes. He immediately looked down at his bandaged legs and said, “Please tell me the family jewels are still intact.” Steve had been consumed by helpless laughter, relief and gratitude melting together inside his chest. Unfortunately, once all of the panic, concern, and anxiety had been washed away that made plenty of room for anger. And, boy, did he have that in spades. 

Steve was doing his best to hold himself together, taking in the deathly pallor of his teammate along with the deep grooves pain had worn in his handsome face. It was difficult to hold his tongue, however, when Tony did stupid things like refusing any pain medication even though the burns on his legs were clearly excruciating. 

“There’s a mystery afoot,” Tony said through gritted teeth, tapping his forehead. “I need to keep my tools sharp.” 

Then he had unceremoniously unhooked himself from all of the medical equipment and tried to hop off the table. The noise of agony he made when his bandaged foot hit the floor was enough to send Steve into a full blown rage. He grabbed Tony and hauled him back up onto the exam table. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he demanded, red-faced and furious. 

“Believe it or not,” Tony snarled, “you’re not  _ actually _ the boss of me.” 

“I’m not going to let you do any more damage to yourself, Tony!” 

“What do you care?! Tony shouted, pushing Steve’s hands away and crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive posture. The soldier stepped back, surprisingly stung by the rejection. 

Tony was abrasive and demanding with every medical professional who came their way, demanding to be released and even going so far as to threaten legal action if he wasn’t discharged immediately. He refused to cooperate and actively worked against the doctors when they came to examine him. Finally, done in by his shenanigans, the medical team sent one final representative, a humorless woman with steel gray hair named Doctor Anderson. It was from her Tony had been attempting to guard his cell phone when Steve had solved that problem for all of them. 

“Perhaps you have not been made aware of the severity of your situation, Mr. Stark,” Doctor Anderson said, “You have second degree burns over most of your legs and feet. If you had been taken to any other hospital in the nation this would be a life-altering event. You would likely never be able to walk again. Lucky for you we have made significant advancements in the field of tissue regrowth and we should be able to restore you to your former state. You will need to undergo a series of procedures. Given the extent of your injuries a week-long course of treatment will need to be administered. One hour every day for five days. After that you should have full use of your extremities again.” 

“You can really do that?” Steve asked, caught between wonder and skepticism. 

“It’s cutting edge technology. However, you should be aware that the treatment is intensely painful.” 

“Fantastic,” Tony sighed. 

“But once he’s done all of the treatments he’ll be…?” Steve asked.

“Good as new. Essentially.” Doctor Anderson answered with a curt nod. “It is critical that you not miss a single treatment, Mr. Stark.” 

“Yeah, sure, okay. Can I go?” Tony demanded. Steve bit his lip to hold back a rebuke. 

“No,” Doctor Anderson said simply, speaking over Tony’s noisy objection. “You are in no position to go anywhere, Mr. Stark. The extent of your injuries is such that even the simple act of moving would cause you excruciating pain in addition to compromising your treatment and risking infection. You will be admitted to the hospital today and required to stay until you have completed at least your first round of the treatment.” 

“How soon will that be?” 

“I could have the necessary equipment ready in as little as an hour-” 

“Then do it!” Tony snapped. 

“But, as I said, the process of cellular regrowth is tremendously painful. I advise that you rest first and regain your strength before we make an attempt.” 

“I’m sorry, am I not speaking english? I said, make it happen. As soon as possible, if not sooner.” 

Doctor Anderson pursed her lips and for a moment seemed ready to argue. “Very well,” she said finally. “I’ll make the necessary arrangements. In the meantime we’ll get you moved into a bed and start a course of pain medication.” 

“NO!” Tony yelled, banging his hand on the table. “I said no pain meds, god damn it!” 

“Tony, you--” Steve began, but was cut off by Tony’s shout. 

“It’s not your decision! Get everything set up, but if anyone comes near me with any variety of opiate I will sue the pants off of every one of you. And don’t think I won't.” 

The doctor gave Steve a look he assumed meant ‘is he always like this?’ to which he responded with a helpless shrug. Doctor Anderson made to exit the room, but before she did she turned back and added, “If you weren’t Iron Man, it is very possible you wouldn’t have survived.” 

Steve clenched his jaw so hard it made a popping noise. 

“I’ll send in a nurse to change your bandages and prep you for the procedure.” 

Tony nodded silently, staring down past his own ruined legs at the floor. Doctor Anderson gave Steve one last significant look and then exited the room, shutting the door quietly behind her. 

Both men were silent. 

“Can I get you anything?” Steve eventually asked, his voice tight. 

“Is Thor around?” Tony asked. 

“I don’t think so. He stayed behind to help with the wounded civilians.” 

“Too bad. I was hoping maybe if he hit me in the head  _ just right _ with Mjolnir I could just sleep through the next week of my life.” 

Steve sighed. “Everything is just one big joke to you, isn’t it?” 

Tony looked up at him, furious. “What, you don’t see the humor? I’m hobbled, my armor is so much melted slag and I get to go sit in a Skele-Grow container for the next week and sweat through making new skin? You don’t think that’s fucking  _ hilarious _ ?” 

“Well, whose fault is that?” Steve exploded. “I told you to sit this one out!” 

“I’ll be that makes you feel  _ so _ much better, doesn’t it? You tried to tell me and I just wouldn’t listen. You’re absolved,” Tony said, making the sign of the cross in the air. “No ‘hail Mary’s’ required.” 

“That’s not what this is about and you damn well know it,” his teammate retorted. 

“No, it’s about the mighty and righteous Captain America always knowing best.” 

“No!” Steve shouted. “This! This, Tony is the problem. You not listening to me.” 

“Sorry, guess I can’t hear you over the roaring of the  _ pain in my body _ . So sorry to inconvenience you.” 

“You are infuriating!” Steve growled, turning away to run his hands through his hair. 

“Takes one to know one!” Tony yelled back, then swore loudly when his leg barely bumped the side of the table. 

“Be careful!” 

“Fuck you!” 

A nurse cracked open the door, peering in at the two furious super heroes with understandable caution. 

“You can come in,” Steve said, stalking past her out of the room. “We’re done here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it looks bleak, my dears, but don't despair. It's always darkest before the dawn, every cloud has a silver lining, etc. It'll turn out okay. 
> 
> Next time: The mystery unravels and therapy of multiple varieties is undertaken. 
> 
> Thanks for all your input and kudos. It all keeps me going.


	7. The Brothers Popov

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which pain brings clarity and the team debriefs.

There were two things about the tissue regeneration experience that Steve, as an observer, would never forget. With time, he supposed that he might not remember what the machine looked like or the terrible metallic grinding noise it made when they slid Tony’s ruined legs inside. He almost certainly wouldn’t remember all of the science behind it, which was explained in detail to Tony and the genius seemed to understand. No, most of the experience would doubtless abandon him at some point in the future. Except for two things. 

The first was the noise Tony made when they turned the machine on. It was an animal howl of pain, a sound he wouldn’t even have thought the other man capable of making. The sound of Tony’s screaming reached deep inside of Steve and  _ pulled _ . He wanted to turn to the technicians and demand that they stop. And knowing that they could not do that, Steve wished with all his might that it was him in there instead. 

Doctor Anderson, who was watching beside him, murmured, “He should have listened to me about the pain medication.” 

It took every shred of self-control to keep from hitting her in the face. 

The minutes stretched out, each one painfully long. Tony’s voice grew hoarse from screaming. Steve closed his eyes and felt his heart breaking. He had to leave, this was unendurable. 

The second thing about this experience that he would never, ever, forget was the way Tony reached out to him. For him. 

“S-steve,” Tony pleaded, his voice gravelly and broken. 

All thoughts of fleeing leapt from Steve’s mind. He immediately knelt down beside Tony and took his hand, which was sweaty and shaking. 

“I’m right here,” Steve whispered, his own voice thick with emotion.  Tony squeezed his hand, then gritted his teeth against another wave of agony. “Just breathe, Tony, you can do this. I know you can. We’ll get through it.” 

And together they did. Doctor Anderson switched off the machine and the technicians carefully removed it. The renewed skin on Tony’s legs was shiny, like a coating of plastic, but transparent. Steve could still see the tortured flesh beneath and it made his stomach clench. He took Tony’s chin in his hand and turned it away to keep him from looking. He forced his fellow Avenger to look at him instead. 

“You did it, Tony,” he said with a smile. 

“Yay,” Tony said weakly. He was pale and shaken, but he managed to smile back just a little bit. 

Though the medical team advised Tony to remain in the hospital a little longer and rest, he insisted that they were leaving and no one put up much of a fight. They slid his fragile legs into a loose pair of scrubs and let Steve push him away in a wheelchair. Not knowing what else to do, he hailed a cab and climbed in the back with Tony who was moving as gingerly as an old man. 

Tony fell asleep immediately on the ride home, his tousled head resting against Steve’s shoulder. Though he was exhausted as well, Steve found that he couldn’t rest. His mind was moving too fast for that. For a little he succeeded in lying to himself.  _ I would have done the same for anyone on the team. I would feel equally responsible for Nat or Clint or Bruce, or even Thor.  _ But these were flimsy sentiments and they burned away under the slightest scrutiny. The truth, the real juicy stuff underneath, was something else entirely. 

The cabbie took a corner at breakneck speed and Tony slid away from him. Steve’s arm shot out, wrapped around the other man’s shoulder, and pulled him in again. Tony made a sleepy noise and nuzzled his nose against the side of Steve’s neck. The super soldier remembered how it had felt to watch Tony suffer so greatly, how it had felt like he was being pulled apart inside. You didn’t get feelings like that for just anyone. That, he supposed, was what happened when you were in love. 

When they got to the tower he roused Tony as gently as he could, and watched as those dark eyes opened. 

“I had a dream,” Tony murmured. 

“What was it?” Steve asked, climbing out and offering his hand.

“Don’t know. I just know that I really really needed to tell you that I am sorry.” 

Tony wrapped an arm around Steve’s shoulder and leaned heavily against him, wincing as he took even a single step. 

“Sorry, that’s not going to work for me,” Steve said and hauled the genius into his arms. 

“So romantic,” Tony sighed, too tired to argue, and rested his head against Steve’s chest. A few moments later when they were standing in the elevator he whispered, “I’m sorry.” 

“Me too,” Steve replied around the lump in his throat. 

  
  


Natasha looked up when Steve entered the common area of the tower, setting aside the tablet she had been working on.

“You look awful. Did you get any rest?” she asked. 

Steve nodded. “A little.”

She cocked her head, no doubt sensing the lie, but let it pass. 

“Where’s everyone else?” Steve asked, collecting pillows and blankets from various surfaces and piling them on a single couch. 

“On their way. Tony?” 

“I’ll go get him in a minute.” 

The elevator opened and revealed the rest of the team, including Tony who was supporting himself on a pair of futuristic-looking crutches. Steve frowned at the sight of him. 

“You were supposed to wait for me,” he said. 

“‘Supposed to’, ‘have to’, you say these things like they are magic words,” Tony replied airily, swinging his way over to where Steve was making a nest. 

“We found him wandering the halls,” Clint said, perching on the arm of the chair Natasha was sitting in. 

This prompted another frown. “You were supposed to be resting,” Steve chided, helping Tony sit and propping his legs up on a mountain of cushions. 

“Hey, this is pretty sweet. If I asked nicely would you fan me with palm fronds and feed me grapes?” Tony said, batting his eyelashes. 

“I think you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t shove you onto the floor the way you’re carrying on,” Bruce put in, settling himself on the floor in front of the coffee table. Everyone chuckled, arranging themselves on the furniture. 

“Can I at least have a bell to ring when I need something?” 

“You have JARVIS,” Steve said, idly fluffing a pillow and sliding it behind Tony’s back. “He can pass it on if you need something.” 

“Worst. Invalid. Experience. Ever,” Tony whined, though he did nestle down into his pillow fort with great relish. “Now, who called this meeting?” 

“I did,” Natasha said, reaching for her tablet again. She swiped and series of images appeared, hovering in the air over the coffee table. “We have some intel on who built the underground lab we stumbled into last night.” 

“So it was actually an underground lab?” Clint asked. 

“It sure looks that way. There was, as Tony pointed out, lots of equipment down there. The space was actually an old underground parking lot that had been chopped up and rented out as warehouses,” Bruce continued, putting up his own images, blueprints of the space and 3-D renderings on top of them. 

“And who rented this one?” Tony asked. 

“A guy by the name of Anton Popov. Originally from Russia, immigrated with his twin brother and wife in two-thousand.” 

A picture floated before them, a thin-faced scowling man with a buzz cut. 

“What was he doing in a parking lot with science gear at that time of night?” Tony asked. 

“That we don’t know,” Bruce said. “SHIELD’s people are still going through all of the debris. They were able to ID the body with DNA. Popov applied for a job with Homeland Security a few years ago, so they had his on file.” 

“Was he given the position?” Thor asked. 

“No. We pulled his records and they don’t say much except that his psychological profile was enough to put him out of the running. The strange thing is that we can’t seem to find the psych report in question,” Natasha added. 

“Strange?” Steve repeated with a raised eyebrow. “Maybe it was deliberately removed?” 

She shrugged. “Who can say. All we know for sure is that Anton Popov is dead and we’re still trying to figure out what he was doing down there. We should know more in a few days.” 

“Has anyone spoken to his kin?” Thor suggested. 

“We’re having some...difficulty tracking down his brother. Boyan Popov. We haven’t been able to locate him.” 

“JARVIS,” Tony said, tapping away on his own device, “start a search on our end.” 

“Yes, sir,” the AI responded. 

“What about his wife? Did you say she came with him from Russia.” 

“She died about four years ago,” Natasha said quietly. “According to the police report she was raped and murdered by an unknown assailant while coming home from night classes.” 

They were all quiet for a moment. 

“Sounds like maybe we just figured out Mr. Popov’s motivation for whatever he was dabbling with,” Tony said.

“Could be,” Clint answered. 

Steve rubbed his chin, thinking. “Well, we need to find the brother. That’s our next step. Natasha, stay in contact with SHIELD and see if they find anything else interesting in the debris. Clint, work with JARVIS to find the other Popov brother. Everyone else, provide support where you can. We’ll regroup when we have more information.” 

“What about his busted ass?” Clint asked, gesturing to Tony. 

“Yeah, what about my busted ass?” the genius repeated, making challenging eye contact with Steve. 

“You need to focus on getting better. You can report for duty when your legs are fully healed.” 

Tony frowned and looked like he might argue. 

“That’s all I’m going to say on the subject, Tony,” Steve said with finality. 

The rest of the Avengers took a moment to absorb the tension mounting in the room around them. 

“Thai food for dinner?” Clint suggested, hopping up. 

“Takeout?” Bruce said, climbing to his feet as well. 

“I will accompany you to purchase mass quantities of noodles,” Thor announced. 

“You guys want in?” Natasha asked. 

“Sure,” Tony said moodily, snatching up his tablet. “I’ll have what Thor is having. That is, if Nanny says I’m allowed.” 

Steve sighed. “Sure. Thanks.” 

“We’ll go get it,” Clint said too loudly. “Be back in...a while.” 

  
  


Tony was still brooding when Steve came back into the room toting a first aid kit. He sat himself down carefully at Tony’s feet and said, “It’s time to change your bandages.” 

The other man merely grunted in acknowledgement. 

Steve laid out everything he would need on the coffee table and then cleared his throat. “Tony...you...can you...I need you to take off your pants.” 

This, at least, made the other man smile. His amusement vanished, however, when it came time to pull the fabric down over his damaged legs. Tony grimaced even though Steve was being as careful as he could. 

“Sorry,” Steve said automatically, pulling the pants away as gently as he could and setting them aside. 

Tony was left wearing Captain America boxers with little shields all over them. Steve saw them and snorted. 

“Hilarious,” he said. 

“I thought so,” Tony replied and picked up his tablet again. 

They both worked in silence for a while, Steve carefully unwinding the used bandages from Tony’s legs and discarding them. He had also brought along a warm washcloth to clean the damaged area, though he hesitated when Tony yelped at the first touch of the flannel. Their eyes met and he could see Tony mentally gathering himself together. 

“I’ll try to do it quickly,” Steve said. 

“It’s okay,” Tony replied, gritting his teeth. “Just get it over with.” 

Steve did, wincing as Tony hissed in pain. He tried to think of a way to distract him from what was going on, something he had been kicking himself for not doing earlier when the regeneration machine was ruining the day for both of them. 

“What are you working on?” he asked, nodding his head towards the tablet. 

“Here - ah! Take a look,” Tony said and turned it around so Steve could see the screen. He peered at it, not making sense of all of the lines and shapes at first, until it finally began to make sense.

“Is that...the regeneration device?” 

Tony nodded, jaw clenched. “There’s no good reason why there can’t be one of these in every hospital in the nation, if not the world. I…” he stopped to hiss with pain, “I stole their design and reworked it. Should be cheaper. Better. I mean, it’ll still suck great big donkey balls, but…” 

Steve finished cleaning the wounds and set the washcloth aside. He was surprised to feel himself smiling. 

“What?” Tony asked, picking up on it as well. 

“Nothing. It’s just. That’s so like you. You’re the one undergoing this nightmare and you still manage to find a way to improve life for other people. It’s humbling, that’s all.” 

Their eyes met. Steve’s gaze was soft and affectionate. Tony’s was quizzical and weary. 

“I’m gonna put the bandages on now,” Steve said when the silence had stretched on too long for comfort. 

Tony nodded. He took a couple of deep breaths in and out, then said, “Do you remember when we were friends, Steve?” 

The other man looked up at him, confused. “What do you mean?” 

“It was the briefest moment in time, of course. We were hardly besties when we first met, as I’m sure you recall. But then we got to know each other, stuff happened and...it was easy. You know, being together. And now...maybe it’s just me, but it seems like everything between us is irretrievably fucked up. Friendship feels like a completely unattainable goal.”

Steve braced Tony’s foot against his thigh and wound the bandages carefully around the partially healed skin. “We  _ are _ friends. Friends piss each other off sometimes and act like idiots. That's not what matters.”

“What, pray tell, does matter?”

Steve shook his head, searching for the words. “All the other stuff. We see each other, and we get it. I know you, you know me. We have each other’s backs. That's all still true. At least for me.”

Tony’s hand landed gently atop Steve’s on his knee. 

“Me too, Capsicle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! That was a long one. And, look, a real plot! Bet you weren't expecting that. 
> 
> This story just keeps changing on me every time I sit down to work on it. It refuses to be rushed even though I have some truly amazing smut in mind that I'm *trying* to get to. Ah well, good things come to those who wait. Continued thanks for all of your input and encouragement. I love it all.


	8. Celebrate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which matters are taken in hand. 
> 
> Note: This is one of the chapters for which this story warrants an Explicit rating.

That night Steve was too exhausted to sleep. His brain was buzzing with information overload. He found himself thinking about the dead Popov twin, wondering what he was getting up to in that parking-lot-turned-laboratory and knowing deep in his gut that it had everything to do with the murder of his wife. Then, without any preamble, a single thought trumpeted through his mind:  _ I am in love with Tony. _ His cheeks flushed and his heart beat just a little bit faster. 

“Okay,” he said aloud in the barest whisper. “So what do I do about it?” 

_ Celebrate,  _ he thought in response. His body prickled with a wave of heat. In his boxers his cock stirred to life. Groaning, he reached for it. 

He remembered the way he and Tony had gone at each other while under the effects of the spell, the desperation he felt, the sure knowledge that if he didn’t make love to the other man he would  _ die. _ What he felt now was only a shadow of that panicked intensity, but it felt  _ real _ . It  _ was _ real. 

Wriggling out of his shorts, Steve took hold of his cock with purpose and closed his eyes. The few weeks that they were under Doctor Strange’s spell had given him a diverse selection of masturbation material to choose from. But he had a favorite memory that he always seemed to return to no matter what else was on offer. 

He and Tony were in the shower together in the master suite, the one that was almost big enough to fit Yankee Stadium. They were exchanging leisurely kisses, their usual urgency having been exhausted. Steve was running his hands all over Tony’s soapy skin, fingers tracing every muscle, dimple, and scar. Tony’s arms were around his neck, calloused fingers casually massaging. Their erections slid idly against one another under the warm spray. 

“I love you,” Tony murmured against his lips. 

Steve had deepened their embrace, moving until Tony was trapped against the wall of the shower and delighting in the shiver that the cool glass sent through his frame. Bending down, Steve took hold of Tony’s legs and wrapped them around his waist, hoisting him effortlessly into the air. Tony groaned with pleasure, entwining himself with the larger man. 

“You know,” he said, hooded eyes twinkling with laughter, “you’re not supposed to pick up a soapy baby.” 

“Worried I’m gonna drop you?” Steve asked.

“Not at all.” 

They kissed fiercely. Tony reached between them and stroked Steve’s cock with his fingertips, the light touch sending fiery waves of pleasure through the other man. 

In his bed Steve stroked his cock, bringing himself right to the edge of orgasm and then backing off again. His eyes were closed, his body taut above the blankets, cords standing out in his arms as he carefully kept himself in check. His breath came in little gasping moans. 

“You’re  _ mine _ ,” Steve said in the memory, his voice pitched low and fierce. 

Tony moaned, using his fingers to guide Steve towards his ass. His other hand reached past the super soldier to the bottle of lube he had stashed on the shelf and coated his fingers. 

“What else?” Tony prompted breathlessly. 

“I’m going to fuck you until you scream,” Steve promised. 

Tony’s eyelids fluttered. His cock gave a mighty spasm against Steve’s thigh. “Oh, hell yeah.” 

Steve reached down and smeared lube all over his dick, positioning it at Tony’s entrance. “That what you want?” he growled. 

“Yeah,” Tony responded. 

“Tell me.” 

Tony looked directly into his eyes and said, “I want you to fuck me with your fat cock, Steve.” 

This was the point where, no matter how much self-control he brought to bear, Steve always lost it. And tonight was no exception. He arched his back, groaned loudly, and came all over his stomach and hand. Milking his cock through the last aftershocks of pleasure, the soldier tried to catch his breath. 

His head was suddenly full of Tony’s agonizing screaming. He sat up, reaching for a handful of tissues and cleaning himself up as best he could, the echoes of Tony’s cries as they had healed his legs still filling his mind. God, it had been torture listening to him in so much pain. And he was going to have to do it again tomorrow. 

Steve ran a hand through his hair and over his face. It was going to be a long week. 

  
  


After a long sleepless night, Steve got up and prepared to face the day. 

“How is he this morning?" he asked JARVIS while brushing his teeth. 

“Sir is awake and working in his workshop, Captain. His vital signs are all normal and he appears to be in moderate spirits.” 

Steve nodded. That was about as good as could be expected. He swung by the communal kitchen for a mug of coffee and then headed downstairs. He found Tony sitting in his chair in sweatpants with his legs propped up on some kind of device. It looked a bit like a giant fan. 

“What’s that?” he asked, setting coffee before the inventor and leaning down to take a better look. 

“And good morning to you too. It's something I cooked up to keep my legs elevated. It also has the added benefit of keeping them cool.” Tony answered and managed to look only moderately impressed with himself. 

“When did you…" 

“Yesterday, while you were sleeping.” he sat back in defiance, clearly expecting a rebuke. 

“Wow," was all Steve said instead. 

“I also have an update on our missing Russian twin," he continued, gulping from the mug of fresh coffee. “Boyan Popov is currently on staff at the University of Pennsylvania Pittsburgh as a Chemistry professor.”

“Well, that's interesting,” Steve remarked, leaning over Tony’s chair to gaze at the screen. The other man seemed to take notice of his proximity, but made no move to separate them. “Bruce looked through some of the initial findings from SHIELD and noticed chemical compounds that an ordinary civilian would have no business with. Dangerous stuff. Not to mention illegal.”

“But exactly the kind of thing a chemistry professor could get access to with no questions asked?” Toby asked, finishing his thought. 

“Guess we better get people out to the city of steel.”

“Already on it,” Tony said, spinning around. His motorized fan foot stool followed his movement automatically. “Sent all the deets to Nat this morning. She and Harvey Birdman are going to check it out today.” 

Steve sat back and nodded. “Good job, Tony. I'm impressed." 

“All in a day's work," he quipped airily, though he did look quite pleased. “I suppose you're here to collect me for another torture session?”

The blonde nodded, looking apologetic. “‘Fraid so." 

Tony nodded, his face pinched and weary. Then he turned to Steve and held out his arms like a child." Carry me?”


	9. Day Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a pretty terrible day turns out to be pretty amazing.

The staff at SHIELD medical gave them a wide berth, no doubt expecting Tony to continue his cantankerous behavior. This time, however, he was a model patient. He accepted the paper gown without complaint, though he did insist on getting himself dressed without assistance. When they wheeled in the regeneration machine Steve could see the change in his friend’s face, the worried expression that stole over his features. But he didn’t complain, simply lay down in the bed as he had done before, allowing himself to be hooked up. 

Doctor Anderson appeared as the technicians were working, holding a syringe. “I suppose you have changed your opinion on the subject of barbiturates?” she asked. 

“Oh, praise Jesus, I have seen the light,” Tony crowed. “Please, doc, jack me up. Hell, if you want to hit me in the head with a brick too, I’ll take it.” 

The doctor seemed to consider this option for a moment, which made Steve smile. Then, perhaps remembering the Hippocratic Oath, she simply moved to Tony’s IV and injected the syringe into the tubing. Almost immediately Tony’s eyelids fluttered and he leaned back into the pillows. 

“Ohhhh, baby,” he moaned. “That’s the stuff.” 

“That’s the highest dose of painkillers we can give you without disrupting the procedure. It should be more bearable today in part because of the meds, but also because the tissue has regenerated sufficiently to make it less strenuous. Of course, it won’t be a walk in the park, but it should be more tolerable,” Anderson said. 

“Mmmhmmm,” Tony hummed, happily nuzzling into the bed. 

“Thank you, Doctor Anderson,” Steve said. The humorless physician nodded in acknowledgement. 

“I’ll come check on you in a little while,” she said, and left the room. 

“Okay, Mr. Stark. We’re all set here. I’m going to turn the machine on in a minute. Do you have any questions before I do?” the technician, a young man in blue scrubs, asked. 

“What are hot dogs made of?” Tony murmured dreamily. “I’ve always wondered, but don’t really think I want to know.” 

The technician directed a questioning glance at Steve, who nodded. He fired the machine up. The change in Tony was immediate. His body went rigid, hands clenched into fists, and he gritted his teeth. 

“Ah, fuck!” he growled, squeezing his eyes closed. 

“It should get better in just a moment,” the young technician explained. 

Steve, who had commandeered a wheeled stool this time, scooted closer. “It’s all right, Tony. Just breathe. 

The other man raised his arm and scrabbled for Steve’s hand. Steve grabbed him and held on tight. “I’ve got you,” he said quietly. 

“I’ll give you some privacy,” the young man said. “Just press the call button on the side of the bed if you need anything. I’ll come back in an hour to unhook him.” 

Steve nodded distractedly, his gaze focused intently on Tony who was starting to sweat. The door shut and the two of them were alone with the quiet humming of the machine. 

“I read that the Buddhist philosophy on pain is to acknowledge the experience and let it move through you,” Steve said, squeezing Tony’s hand. 

“What...the fuck does that mean?” Tony ground out. 

“I don’t actually know. Just keep breathing, I guess?” 

“Super helpful, thanks,” the other man said, though he did take a deep breath. And then another. Tony’s body relaxed marginally and he opened his eyes. He looked over at Steve and managed a watery smile. “You did research.” 

The super soldier shrugged. “I hate to see you suffering so much.” 

Tony’s smile grew and he even managed an ironic huff of laughter. 

“What?” Steve asked. 

“Nothing. Just….I spent months trying so hard to get the two of us to spend time together when all I had to do was just get myself blown up.” 

Steve looked away, aware that his pulse was speeding up. “What are you talking about?” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Please. You’re young, but you weren’t born yesterday.” 

That made the other man snort. He shrugged. “I guess I thought you were just trying to seduce me.” 

Groaning in sudden discomfort, Tony squeezed his eyes shut. “Mmm...that’s what everyone seems to think. Believe it or not…. _ fuck  _ that’s uncomfortable...I don’t do all my thinking with my dick.” 

“I know,” Steve answered, reaching for the cool washcloth the nurse had left behind for this purpose and touching it to Tony’s forehead. The other man moaned with pleasure. 

“So, you just thought that….all my efforts were so I could screw you?” Tony continued. 

“Is this really the best time to have this discussion?” Steve asked, secretly hoping that they could avoid it altogether. 

“Sure it is. I’ve got your undivided attention and...ugh...I need the distraction. Humor me.” 

Steve sighed. He moved the washcloth to the back of Tony’s neck and received another contented sigh. “I’m not sure what to say, Tony. Sure, at first, I thought you were just trying to get into my pants. But then...you didn’t. Try, I mean. You just kept asking me to have dinner with you or go to baseball games or come running with me in the park, which I  _ know _ you hated. And then...I guess I didn’t know what to think. Especially when you acted so completely different when anyone else was around to see. Like it was some big joke.” 

“What? When did I do that?” 

“All the time! Joking about Richard's plan. The...outfits. The auction. That was maybe the worst,” Steve sighed, feeling a renewed rush of frustration at the memory. 

“What was wrong with that? I thought you would be….flattered,” Tony said between clenched teeth, moving through another wave of pain. 

“Jeez, Tony. It was embarrassing. You didn’t need to spend five thousand dollars to take me out, we’ve been going out for  _ months _ !” 

Tony’s eyes snapped open. “What?” 

“Haven’t we?” Steve asked, suddenly unsure. It had all seemed so clear to him, but Tony’s expression of naked shock had unseated his certainty. 

“You...we...what do you consider our first date?” the other man asked, discomfort suddenly forgotten. 

Steve considered. “The Mets game?” 

“The  _ Mets game _ ?!” Tony repeated incredulously. “That was six months ago!” 

“I know! Imagine my surprise when you never tried to kiss me.” 

“You could have kissed me!” Tony retorted, his voice growing louder. 

“I didn’t want to...assume anything,” Steve answered, hearing for the first time how illogical his line of thinking had been. “I just kept waiting for you to make the first move. I figured...I’d just do what came naturally when you did.” 

“Oh my god,” the darker man moaned, running his hand over his face. “You mean to tell me that this entire time I could have been molesting you on a regular basis? That I didn’t push hard  _ enough _ ? Unbelievable. I’m going to have words with Natasha, that much I can tell you. Following her fucking worthless advice.” 

“What did she tell you?” Steve inquired. 

“That you needed time to come to terms with your latent homosexual feelings. That I shouldn’t push you or try to manipulate you. Meanwhile, we could have been fucking for  _ months. _ Unbelievable,” he repeated, shaking his head. Then, a thought seemed to occur to him and he looked contrite. “Of course, like I said, it’s not all about that. I...I…” Tony waved his free hand, trying to summon the words. 

Steve put a hand on the other man’s chest, his hand almost blotting out the light from the arc reactor. “I get it,” he said quietly. “I was confused...you know, at first. After you told me you still loved me on the roof that day-” 

“When you insisted you were straight,” Tony interrupted. 

“Yeah. Well, I thought I was. But...then you respected that for about five minutes, didn’t you?” 

Tony smiled. “Yeah, kinda.” 

“And the more time we spent together....guess you wore me down,” he finished with a small smile. 

“I had a feeling that I would. And here you were waiting all chastely for me to drag you to bed,” Tony said with wonder, shaking his head again. He dislodged the washcloth and it slid down his neck. Steve retrieved it, wrung it out, and touched his head with it again. “Is this really happening?” Tony asked. “I feel like it’s just the painkillers and maybe the horrible shit that’s happening to my legs right now. It doesn’t feel real.” 

“It’s real,” Steve reassured him, stroking the washcloth down Tony’s cheek. “I’m just not sure what...what it all means. I’ve never...not a real relationship, anyway. And I don’t really understand...with two fellas…” 

“Oh, you are so cute. Seriously. The cutest. Agh!” Tony’s body tensed with pain. He squeezed Steve’s hand so tightly it was uncomfortable. Steve threw the washcloth aside and rubbed Tony’s chest with his other hand, murmuring soothingly. Slowly, so slowly, he felt the tension drain from the other man’s body. 

“Okay,” Tony said, his voice shaky. “So, question one. Are we dating? What am I saying? We live together, we’ve been going out for six months, we’re pretty much common law married! The real question is, do you want to be with me? Like, boyfriends? I hate that word. It sounds so childish. I need a momentous word for what  _ we _ are. Lovers? Ugh, no. This isn’t eighteen twelve.” 

“Focus,” Steve prompted, grinning. 

“Sorry. Okay. So, do you want to be my boyfriend?” Tony asked, meeting his gaze almost shyly. He laid his free hand on top of Steve’s on his chest. There was no mistaking the vulnerability and hope in his deep brown eyes. 

“Yes,” Steve said emphatically. The delight on Tony’s face was instantaneous. “Now, the real question is, do you want to be mine?” 

“Fuck yes. Hell yes. All of the yes,” Tony answered immediately, prompting Steve to breathless laughter. “This isn’t going to send you into some ‘I was born in the forties’ homophobic tailspin, is it?” 

Steve shook his head. “I think I mostly dealt with those issues. I can’t promise that they won’t come up again in some other way, but...I want to try.”  

  
“Then this,” Tony announced, even as he grimaced in pain, “is a  _ great _ day!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now it's all finally out there right on the table. It feels like it's taken YEARS to get to this point. 
> 
> Next time: The boys get to know each other, dodging distractions all the while.


	10. Pennsylvania is Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a field report is delivered and an unexpected guest is greeted.

When the young hospital technician opened the door to Tony Stark’s room to find the patient laughing and smiling he thought for a moment he was in the wrong place. Hesitating in the doorway, he watched as the two men  _ giggled _ . Whatever Doctor Anderson had given him for the pain, it must have been good stuff. 

“Mr. Stark,” he said quietly, making his presence known. “You’re all done here today.” 

“We should celebrate,” Tony said to Steve, ignoring the technician as he went through his procedures to shut down and unhook the machine. 

Steve nodded, looking thoughtful. “What did you have in mind?” 

“Well…” Tony said with a saucy wink. 

“Here we go again,” Steve replied, rolling his eyes. 

“What? I was just informed that we’ve been dating for  _ six months _ and we haven’t even kissed, much less done anything else.” 

“You’re hardly in a position to do anything else,” the blonde reminded him, helping him sit up when the machine was removed from his legs. 

“Ooh, weird. I have Barbie legs,” Tony said, looking down at the glossy new skin covering the previously burned areas. 

“How do they feel?” Steve asked. 

Tony flexed his foot experimentally and winced. “Still tender. Not on fire, though, so that’s an improvement. Anyway, stay with me here, we should celebrate our newfound union and I don’t just mean the physical way. I mean, I want to do that of course, but I think you’re probably right about my condition. I’m not sure I could get an erection right now even with chemical assistance.” 

The technician coughed and blushed. 

“Dinner?” Steve asked with a stretch that popped every vertebra in his spine. 

“Yes! I know this great….oh,” Tony trailed off, looking down at his legs again. “This is one of those times that I think I might be going down the wrong track - the one that ends with Pepper yelling at me. I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk yet and...well, the press getting a snap of me in a wheelchair...probably not good for business.” 

The crestfallen expression on his now-boyfriend’s face made Steve want to literally move heaven and earth. He sat back, thinking, and a grin spread over his handsome features. 

“Someone has a plan,” Tony said with his own answering smile. 

“Let me take care of it,” Steve answered, nodding. 

  
  


As they were leaving, Steve’s phone began to ring. “It’s Natasha,” he said. 

“Wheel me in here,” Tony responded, indicating the door to a small conference room. 

Steve did so, jostling the door and the phone and the wheelchair as he tried to answer. 

“Hey, Steve,” Natasha’s voice filled his ear. She sounded tired and maybe even a little annoyed. 

“One minute. I’m going to put you on speaker, I’ve got Tony here too.” Steve shut the door to the conference room behind them and then stared at his phone for a minute. “Uh…” 

“Give it here,” Tony said and reached for the device. “Speakerphone...what is this, nineteen ninety? We can do way better than that.” 

The genius tapped a few buttons, then set the phone in the middle of the table. A few seconds later a 3-D image of Natasha appeared hovering in the air above the device. 

“Hey gorgeous,” Tony said. 

She looked right at him and waved. “How are the legs?” 

“Weirdly shiny. But less painful. I still have three more rounds of this nonsense to get through.” 

“Sucks to be you,” Clint added, appearing in the image over Natasha’s shoulder. 

“What have you got for us?” Steve asked, ever the focused soldier. 

“We located Popov and were able to tail him for a while, but then he gave us the slip,” Natasha reported, her voice tight. 

“She blames me,” Clint put in. “It was an emergency! I’m telling you, something was seriously off about that cheesesteak. Anyway, we’ll try to pick up his trail again tomorrow.” 

“Was he onto you?” Tony asked. 

“No doubt,” Clint answered. “He’s a perceptive little bugger. I suspect he wasn’t just a schoolteacher back in good ol’ Mother Russia.” 

“We don’t have any records to confirm that,” Natasha added, “but I agree. He made us almost right away and actually climbed the side of a building using the fire escape to get away.”

“So, what you’re saying is that he’s definitely up to something,” Tony said. 

“Oh yeah,” Clint replied. 

“We just don’t know what it is yet,” Steve put in. “Divide and conquer tomorrow. Nat, stay on Popov and Clint see if you can get access to his lab at the school. We need to have a look around there and see what he’s working on.” 

Tony was stroking his goatee thoughtfully. “Do you think he knew about his brother?” 

Natasha shrugged. “He didn’t seem like someone in mourning.” 

“If you catch up with him tomorrow you ought to let him know. See what his reaction is.” 

“Good idea,” Steve added and Tony preened. 

“Nice to see you two getting along again,” Natasha said with a smile. 

“Oh, we’re getting along just  _ fine _ ,” Tony replied and Steve jostled him with his shoulder, blushing. 

“You know,” Clint said, “Pennsylvania is nice. Maybe we’ll just stay here.” 

“But then whose ass would I kick at Mario Kart?” Tony asked. 

Clint spluttered, throwing his hands into the air. “You cheat! I know you do. You hacked my Wii. It’s the only possible explanation.” 

“Or maybe you just suck,” Tony offered. Even in a grainy 3-D rendering there was no mistaking the death glare Clint gave him. 

“I’m going to hang up now,” Natasha said. “We’ll report back tomorrow when we have something.” 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Tony said, twiddling his fingers. 

Natasha waved, then terminated the call. Steve regarded the other man, still seated in his wheelchair. “Did you really hack Clint’s video game system?” 

Tony nodded. “Yup. And his X-Box, too. Though I don’t think he’s noticed that one yet. Whenever he beats a level on Call of Duty it’s programmed to play Rick Astley music videos on a continuous loop.” 

“Rick...who?” Steve asked, brow furrowed. 

“It’s called Rickrolling, Cap. I’ll fill you in later.” 

“Okay,” Steve said, maneuvering behind the wheelchair and starting to propel Tony out of the room. 

“Woah, hold on!” the seated man said, putting his hands out to stop the wheels from moving. 

“What?” Steve asked, afraid that perhaps Tony was hurt. 

“This is the first time we’ve really been alone since the whole becoming actual boyfriends thing. I feel it is high time we consummate this relationship in the traditional way - by kissing.” 

Steve looked around at the dull little conference room. “You want our first kiss to be here?” 

“Is it technically our first kiss? I mean, we kissed a bunch of times before. And then I kissed you that night you told me you were straight. That seems like a technicality to me,” Tony observed. 

“It feels like our first kiss to  _ me _ ,” was the simple reply. And, really, who could argue with that. 

“And you don’t want to bend over my wheelchair and snog me in a weird little corporate conference room?” 

Steve glanced around again. 

“Or are you worried someone will walk in?” Tony continued, mildly disappointed. 

“Hm,” Steve murmured, taking a deep breath. Then, finding nothing else worthy of saying, he leaned over Tony’s wheelchair and kissed him. The embrace was chaste, just a gentle brushing of their lips at first. Tony reached up and cupped Steve’s clean-shaven cheeks in his hands, holding his face reverently. Steve deepened the kiss, running his fingers through Tony’s hair and then over his earlobe, which he remembered the other man enjoying heartily. A shudder passed through Tony at the contact. Their tongues met briefly. Then slowly Steve pulled away a few inches and regarded his boyfriend. 

“How was that?” he asked, trying and failing to keep the nerves out of his voice. 

“I can’t remember ever having better,” Tony said, and then they were both grinning like idiots again. “Maybe we can do more of that tonight, if our date goes well.” 

“Play your cards right,” Steve promised and ducked down for another peck. 

Tony sighed contentedly. “You know what, fuck my burned up legs. This is the best day ever.” 

  
  


They returned to the tower and were immediately greeted by JARVIS’s dulcet tones. “Captain, you have a visitor waiting for you. A Miss Fielding.” 

Tony shot Steve an accusatory look and found the soldier looking perplexed. “Vanessa Fielding? Our...meeting isn’t for another few days.” 

“ _ Meeting _ ,” Tony huffed, working through a flash of jealous anger. 

“She arrived at the tower fifty one minutes ago asking for you and when I asked if she would like to wait she indicated a desire for a guided tour of the tower.” 

“Which you provided?” 

“Yes, sir. She was particularly interested in the scientific facilities, including sir’s workshop.” 

Tony looked horrified. “You didn’t-” 

“I did not permit her entry,” JARVIS assured him, sounding mildly offended, “And I enacted all security protocols. However, she insisted on waiting for Captain Rogers outside the locked door of your workshop downstairs.” 

Steve frowned. “That’s odd.” 

“No shit. Let’s go greet our guest,” Tony said, wheeling himself into the elevator. 

They found Miss Fielding exactly where JARVIS had left her, standing outside of Tony’s lab and tapping away on her phone. She looked guiltily startled when the elevator opened and quickly stuck the device back in her voluminous designer handbag. 

“Steve, darling!” she crowed, approaching and wrapping as much of her small body around the super soldier as she could. He awkwardly tapped her back looking pained. Tony’s opinion of the southerner moved from mild irritation to full blown dislike. 

“Aren’t we...on for Friday?” Steve asked. 

“We are, but I thought I would just pop over and ask about your food preferences. You don’t have any allergies, do you? Shellfish and whatnot.” 

“You waited here for an hour to ask if the super soldier is allergic to shellfish?” Tony asked incredulously. 

Vanessa looked only marginally chagrined. “I just wanted...to be sure. You know, just in case. I’d hate to be the one responsible for sending Captain America into anaphylactic shock!” She tittered at this witticism. 

“Nope, no allergies,” the other man interjected cheerily. “I love shellfish.” 

“Wonderful!” Vanessa announced, clapping her hands. “By the way, this is an amazing place you have here. Very state of the art. I particularly love what you’ve done down here, Tony.” 

He considered, for the briefest of moments, instructing her to call him “Mr. Stark”, but quelled the urge. Acting like a jealous child wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Besides, Tony had a great day under his belt, he could be a little forgiving with this airhead. 

“Thanks,” he murmured. 

“Oh my goodness,” Vanessa cried, seemingly noticing his wheelchair for the first time, “What on earth happened!” 

“Just a fall,” Tony said at the exact same time Steve replied, “Nothing serious.” Tony was glad that the weird state of his legs was currently covered by his sweatpants, otherwise there would likely be no getting rid of her. 

She looked between the two of them and gave a little nod, satisfied. “Well, I hope you heal up soon, honey. It’s strange to see such a force of nature as Tony Stark stuck in a wheelchair.” 

“Thanks,” he said again. There followed an awkward silence. 

“Well, I guess I’d better be going. See you on Friday, handsome,” she said, patting Steve’s bulky arm. 

“Looking forward to it,” he replied with a forced smile. 

“JARVIS can show you out,” Tony said. 

“Get well soon,” she called with a friendly wave, which Tony returned, gritting his teeth. 

Once she was out of sight Tony sighed. “New rule, J. No tours for random ditzy guests. They can just wait in the lobby like everyone else.” 

“Noted, sir,” the AI answered. 

“You can deactivate the security protocols,” Tony said. The wall before them, turned opaque by the security process, returned to its normally transparent state. Tony reached up and entered his code and the door unlocked. 

“How’s the network look?” he asked JARVIS. 

“All systems are normal, sir.” 

Tony frowned, looking around. Something felt off, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. 

“Are you worried she did something while he was down here?” Steve asked, coming up behind him. 

“I just have a weird feeling I can’t shake,” Tony said. 

Steve’s hand landed on his shoulder, heavy and warm. “Anything I can help with?” 

Tony reached up and intertwined their fingers. He smiled. “You already have.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Steve goes on a date. Things do not go as planned. 
> 
> I've gotten so much positive encouragement on things so far - it's very encouraging. Thanks again to everyone for taking the time to give me your feedback. There will be more soon!


	11. Date-zaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a romantic dinner is interrupted by bad news and two steps backward are taken by all.

Despite having basically zero experience driving in the 21st century, Steve was nonetheless the superior pilot between the two of them. Tony tended to operate vehicles as though he had stolen them (which admittedly, sometimes he had) and Steve drove as though he were in charge of his grandmother’s prized 1968 Cadillac, careful not to put so much as a scratch in the paint. Unless, of course, he was being pursued by evil Nazi’s or government agents, of course. But since they remained without any such pursuit this evening the super soldier was his usual cautious self behind the wheel as he drove them to Brooklyn.

“Your old stomping ground,” Tony observed.

Steve nodded, looking wistful. “Sure doesn’t look the same.”

Tony reached over and put a hand on Steve’s leg. “Sometimes I forget what it must be like for you. Like the bones of the city are still there, but the rest has changed so completely.”

The other man glanced at him, surprised and touched. “Exactly,” he said.

They drove in silence for a while until Steve pulled to a stop in an alleyway behind a squat brick building. “We’re here.”

Tony peered around, absorbing as much information as he could about the place. “Honey, I’m all for European dining hours, but this is a little late for dinner even for me.”

It was just rounding ten thirty at night. Steve got out and opened the back door, extricating Tony’s wheelchair. He then opened Tony’s door for him and gently lifted him out, careful not to bump his injured legs. “There’s a reason for that,” he answered. “You said you didn’t want the press around, right? Well, I asked Virgil to stay open just for us.”

Tony looked impressed. “Usually I’m the one who has that kind of influence.”

“He’s an old friend, Virgil is, Steve said with a wink. Tony’s heart melted into a lovesick little puddle.

Steve pounded a fist on the back door, which was opened moments later by a young-ish hispanic man. “Steve!” he cried jubilantly and they embraced awkwardly around Tony’s chair.

“Antonio! This is…”

“Tony Stark, of course. I know who you are. I have your phone!” Antonio announced in broken english, producing a Stark phone from the pocket of his filthy apron.

“Antonio, buddy, you need to upgrade. That’s the model from, what, four years ago?” Tony said. “I’ll hook you up, don’t worry. I hate to see people using old tech. It makes me sad in my heart.”

“Wow...thank you!” Antonio gushed.

“Virgil around?” Steve asked, perhaps to keep Tony from making any more grand gestures.

“Right here,” said a raspy voice with a hint of a Germanic accent. Tony looked up to see a hunched man around the age of ninety standing before them, leaning heavily on a cane. “Good to see you, young man,” he said with unmistakable fondness.

Steve shook his hand and smiled. “Virgil, this is Tony Stark.”

“Nice to meet you,” the proprietor said, leaning over and offering Tony his wrinkled hand in turn. Tony shook it gently and quickly, worried the old timer was going to collapse.

“Virgil was a neighborhood kid back when I lived here,” Steve said, “His parents came over from Hungary. Used to babysit for him sometimes, when I was well enough.”

Virgil pulled his wrinkles into a smile. “I was so glad to hear that you survived, Steve.” He glanced down at Tony and pointed a gnarled finger into Steve’s broad chest. “This one. National treasure.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Tony agreed.

“Come,” Virgil said, hobbling through the kitchen ahead of them, “I got you a table all set up.”

“Thanks again for doing this,” Steve said, maneuvering Tony’s chair through the cramped kitchen space.

“My pleasure, young man. My pleasure.” Virgil led them to a table in a secluded corner of the restaurant, not a window in sight. The darkness was only abated by a single candle in the middle of the table, flickering softly. “Romantic,” he pronounced.

“Most definitely,” Tony agreed as Steve slid him up into the available spot.

“Okay, I’ll leave you to it,” Virgil said, patting Steve gently on the back. “Have a good time. And don’t worry about the mess. We take care of it, yes?”

“You’re the best,” Steve replied, sliding into the chair across from Tony with a smile.

Virgil flapped a hand and headed back into the kitchen.

Tony faced his date with a raised eyebrow. “He still runs this place at his age?”

Steve shook his head, unfolding his napkin. “Nah, his daughter is mostly in charge. Her name is Ahna. He wanted to be here tonight, though.”

“To see you,” Tony finished.

“And you.”

“Mmm, the miscreant who manipulated Captain America into dating him. I can see why that would have a certain draw,” then he added, before Steve could argue, “What’s good here?”

“Gosh, everything,” Steve gushed. “I really like the schnitzel, though. It’s the real deal.”

“Schnitzel it is, then!” Tony announced, sweeping the menu away. This order was repeated for both of them when Antonio came out, full of gratitude and hero worship, a few minutes later. Then they faced each other over a bottle of red wine and a flickering candle.

“This is good lighting for you,” Steve said before he could stop himself.

Tony smiled. “Wine gone to your head already?”

“Nah, just you.”

The darker man laughed. “Look at the two of us. Who would have thought, right?”

Steve nodded, “I used to think  you hated me.”

“And I thought you hated me even more.”

Tony’s phone began to vibrate on the table. They both stared at it accusingly. Tony picked it up and glanced at the display. “It’s Barton,” he said.

“Better answer it,” Steve said.

Tony did, setting the phone on the table between them. His phone was significantly upgraded from the model Steve was using, so the 3-D image of Clint that appeared between them was much clearer, sharper, and in full color. So they could see with total clarity the look of concern written across the archer’s face. Steve’s demeanor changed at once, all seriousness and business.

“What happened?” he asked.

Clint ran a hand through his short hair and spoke quietly. “I finally got into Popov’s lab and started going through the files on his computer and...well, there’s something you need to see.” He turned the phone to face the large computer monitor across from him. It took a moment for the image to clarify on their end, but when it did both men sat back in shock.

“Is that what I think it is?” Steve asked, his expression darkening.

“Yup,” Tony answered miserably. “Fuck.”

It was a crude drawing, clearly done by the hand of someone who had no background in engineering, but the subject was clear enough. It was very obviously the plans for the cradle used in Project Rebirth. Though some significant changes had been made, noteworthy upgrades that Tony had only seen once before. Modifications perpetrated by a young genius who had come closer to recreating Project Rebirth than anyone else ever had since Erskine died.

“Tony,” Steve said, noticing the expression on the other man’s face. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“It is what I think it is, right? I mean, I’m not wasting my time here,” Clint asked.

“No, you’re definitely not. Is there more?” Tony asked, dodging his date’s accusing look for the moment.

“Oh yeah. Specifications, calculations, measurements. It’s all here.”

“Send me everything you’ve got. Download it all and wipe the drive,” Tony instructed, wheeling himself away from the table. “Sorry, honey, but we’ve got to go.”

“Where?” Steve asked, already on his feet.

“SI,” Tony said.

“You’ll fill me in on the way,” Steve answered. It wasn’t a question.

 

Tony told Steve the whole sordid tale on the drive over. Judging by the way the soldier’s big hands clenched more and more tightly on the wheel as they talked, it was not going super duper well.

“How could you not tell me this sooner?!” Steve exploded when they were done, taking a right turn a little too fast and jostling Tony’s legs painfully in the footwell.

“Because I knew that this is how you would react,” Tony shot back. “We both know this is a sensitive subject for you and I didn’t want this kid’s career to be ruined because of your lack of perspective. Though, of course, that’s all shot to hell now. Damn it,” he swore, slamming his hand on the seat. “I warned him. I fucking warned him.”

“Yeah, well, now he’s going to get a lot more than that,” the other man said darkly.

Tony shot him a glare. “He’s one of the greatest minds of our time, Steve. A genius. Smarter than I am, even, much as it pains me to admit it. He fucked up.”

“No,” Steve corrected, shooting an angry look over his shoulder, “ _you_ did. You should have told me and the others about this a long time ago and we could have _done_ something about it. But, no, as usual you kept it to yourself and did what you thought was best. And now look where we are.”

“Oh, right, because if I had told you about the whole thing you wouldn’t have thrown this kid in some SHIELD holding cell for god-knows how long?”

“I wouldn’t have given him his own lab!” Steve yelled.

“Of course not, because, and I’m being honest here, this isn’t exactly your wheelhouse is it?” Tony said bitterly, knowing that he was crossing the line and not caring. “You’re the ‘break down walls with your bare hands’ and ‘strangle the bad guy’ kind of superhero, aren’t you? And I’m the ‘understands science and technology’ and ‘recognizes patterns’ kind.”

Steve blanched. “Are you saying I’m not _smart_ enough to understand the situation?”

“Maybe.”

“Jesus, Tony. Are you _trying_ to piss me off?”

“You were pissed off before I even opened my mouth,” Tony shot back. “You can’t keep any kind of perspective on this issue. You have never been able to.”

“How am I supposed to trust you?” Steve said, turning on him as they stopped at a red light. “In any capacity? As a teammate, as a partner? How the hell am I supposed to trust you with anything if you refuse to share your intel?”

Tony sat back, stunned. “Maybe you just don’t, then, Steve. Maybe we’re not supposed to be partners. Because, guess what, this is who I am. This is who I’ve always been. I’m not a team player and I never have been.”

“You know, that’s never been more clear to me,” Steve ground out, slamming to a stop in front of the Stark Industries building. He wrestled the wheelchair out of the back with considerably more violence than he had only half an hour ago and all but threw it to the ground in front of Tony.

If he was honest, Tony had been expecting more of an argument. A part of him thought that when he said he wasn’t a team player Steve would argue with him, tell him that he had stepped up in the past, that he was capable of having a successful relationship with other people. But when he had not only immediately agreed, but confirmed that he had felt this way before, it took all of the wind out of the genius’s sails. Their relationship, such as it was, had destroyed itself before even getting started. No, correction, _Tony_ had destroyed it. Like he always did. A deep existential sorrow made itself known inside of him, but he set it aside. He could feel that way later, there were other fish to fry now.

 

Philip Landers was understandably shocked by the arrival, in what was essentially the middle of the night, of two Avengers in his lab. He was even more surprised and dismayed when Captain America stormed around the room, ripping out cords and tossing paperwork into a trash bag.

“What the hell are you doing?!” the young man shouted, following helplessly in Steve’s wake.

“I warned you, Philip,” Tony said, his voice tinged with disappointment and anger. “I told you to lay off the Project Rebirth bullshit, but you just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“What are you talking about? I haven’t touched it! Not since you and Doctor Banner told me not to!” Philip exclaimed.

“How do you explain this, then?” Tony said, holding up his phone to show the image Clint had displayed earlier in the restaurant. “It’s rough, but it’s clearly your design, kid.”

Philip leaned in and squinted at the image, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Man, I don’t even _have_ those files anymore. You guys took them! You deleted everything, all of my work. And what you did went with you to Avengers HQ. Come on, you have to believe me. Why would I fuck around with that stuff?”

“Why fuck around with it in the _first place_?” Steve snapped, turning on him. “What is it about Erskine’s work that has everyone trying to recreate it all the time?”

Landers bit his lip, looked at Tony. The man in the wheelchair schooled his features into utter impassivity. Landers ran a hand through his unruly hair. “It’s...it’s a challenge, you know? Like an unsolvable math problem. Everyone wants to be the first person to crack the code. It’s not even about making another super soldier, at least not for me. It’s just about...solving it.”

Steve scoffed, tossed more items into the trash bag.

“Hold on,” Tony told him. He faced the kid again, looking into his eyes. “Tell me you didn’t do this.”

“I didn’t do that,” Landers repeated emphatically. “Where did you even find it?”

“A chemist’s lab in Pennsylvania,” Steve answered, halting his own progress as Tony requested and taking a deep breath for the first time.

“You’re the one who took my files, man,” Philip said to his benefactor, “the leak is on _your_ end.”

Tony and Steve regarded each other.

“Do you believe him?” Steve asked evenly.

Tony looked between the two men, one scrawny and sweaty, the other still wearing the jacket and button-down he had donned for their dinner date. He nodded.

Steve heaved a sigh, lifting the garbage bag and depositing it on one of the nearby tables. “So that means the leak came from us?”

Tony nodded again. “JARVIS, look through all the security reports for the last three weeks. Have there been any anomalies?”

There was a beat and then the AI answered. “No, sir. All systems are normal.”

“So,” Steve continued, “we have no idea who got the files or how they did so.”

“Right,” Tony answered, putting his head in his hands.

“And no way to find them,” the other man continued.

“Fuck my life,” Tony moaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These dang kids just refuse to play nice with one another! I'm going to keep trying, though. I promise. We're rounding third base here in terms of the overall story, not much more to go now (I think). Hang in there, dear readers! It'll be worth the wait. 
> 
> Continued thanks for all of your input. I love the feedback! It keeps me going when the going gets tough. Every little bit is appreciated enormously.


	12. Thanks, Doctor Phil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which plans are formed and Tiny cannot decide which is more painful - actual torture or talking about his feelings.

The drive back to the tower was a silent one, save for one brief phone call with Natasha in which she reported that she had been unable to pick up the trail on Boyan Popov.

“I just left his apartment,” she said, “and it looks like he packed in a hurry. He’s probably in the wind.”

“We’ll need to set up ID flags with all major sources of travel. No way can we let this guy get on a plane,” Steve ordered.

“On it,” Tony replied quietly, already tapping away on his phone.

“You and Clint come home,” Steve continued, “we’ll regroup here and figure out what to do next. In any case, it seems clear that whatever Anton Popov was doing that got him blown up, his brother was certainly involved.”

“Clint show you what he found?” Natasha asked.

Steve’s jaw clenched, “Yes. We took care of it.”

“Okay…See you tomorrow,” she replied, clearly picking up on Steve’s unhappy tone. “I’ll give a full report then.”

“See you tomorrow,” Steve said, and hung up.

When they got back, Tony half expected Steve to abandon him in the car and figure out his own way inside, but he went through the motions true to form. Tony felt an unexpected swell of emotion when Steve gathered him in his arms like a child, moving him from the car to the wheelchair. He felt compelled to say something, anything, but could think of nothing that would do. He tried to catch the other man’s eyes, but Steve avoided his gaze.

After that, they went their separate ways.

 

It was by mutual, albeit unspoken, agreement that Tony attended his next regeneration procedure alone. He took a car to SHIELD medical, went through the routine, and if the same young technician noticed the lack of companionship he kept quiet about it. As he was hooking Tony up to the hateful machine, the genius had a question.

“Is there any reason you can’t do two sessions at once?”

The young man frowned. “Doctor Anderson wants you to be able to rest in between. You know how draining one session is, much less two in a row.”

Tony shook his head. “If you can do it without killing me, then do it.”

“I’ll need-”

“Do it!”

The young man blanched. “Okay. Okay, sir,” he said, and went about the process of completing setup.

“JARVIS,” Tony said, his voice tight, "cue up the death metal.”

The room filled with the sounds of wailing guitars, thundering drums, and, moments later, Tony's own voice added to the chorus.

 

Everyone looked up when the elevator pinged and Tony _walked_ into the common area. His gait was unsteady, knees weak, but he managed it with the use of a cane.

“It walks upright!” Clint exclaimed. “Why, one might even say it’s like a man.”

As he came closer they all got a good look at how pale and drawn Tony’s face was and all further jokes dried up.

“Give me a minute,” Tony said in a raspy voice, working his way to the communal kitchen for a drink of water. Behind his back, the others exchanged looks heavy with concern.

“Okay,” Tony said, turning back and leaning against the counter. “What have we got?”

“Not much,” Bruce answered him. “Boyan Popov is still MIA.”

“Actually, we were hoping you could help with that,” Natasha put in. “With all your super secret tracking capabilities.”

Tony nodded. “Already on. Unfortunately, our quarry seems to exist in the dark ages and hasn’t touched a piece of tech since he went on the lam. No phone, no internet, no nothing.”

“Well, who would he call anyway,” Clint pointed out, “his family is dead.”

“So, what do we know?” Steve put in, pacing back and forth. “Anton Popov was messing with some dangerous chemicals in his underground lab and managed to blow himself up. His brother, a chemistry professor, has Philip Landers’s plans for Project Rebirth at _his_ lab in Pennsylvania. Plans he more than likely got from us somehow.”

“Though not directly. Landers’s diagrams were clean and clear, done through computer programs. The files Popov had on his computer were crudely drawn, like someone trying to recreate the images,” Bruce put in.

“And not well,” Tony added.

“When we set upon our quarry he vanished into the night,” Thor said, picking up the narrative. “And we have not been able to recover him as of yet.”

“That’s about the long and short of it,” Steve acknowledged with a sigh.

“I realize that this isn’t a hard fact, but can we assume that whatever Anton was working on, he had his brother’s help? And, therefore, it was probably also related to Project Rebirth?” Natasha asked.

Everyone nodded.

“So, is Boyan carrying on their work after his brother’s death? Or did he really cut and run?”

“I think we have to assume that he is going to continue trying to solve the ‘unsolvable problem’,” Steve said, not without a note of bitterness.

“But the real question is why,” Bruce said. “Why pursue it at all?”

“Heil HYDRA?” Clint suggested.

“There’s no evidence of any kind of link to HYDRA or any other organization,” Natasha replied, shaking her head. “My gut says that this was personal.”

“Always go with her gut,” Tony said, taking a long drink of water.

“All the more reason for him to continue the work,” Steve agreed.

Thor got up from the couch, cape billowing around his legs. “What then is our villain’s next step?”

They were all quiet, thinking. Tony was the first to speak, his gravelly voice resonating across the space.

“If I were a crazed Russian scientist trying to engineer a super soldier and I had what amounted to crude blueprints to just that, I’d start shopping for ingredients. The stuff Landers came up with to recreate Erskine’s formula isn’t exactly easy to get.”

“Good idea,” Steve acknowledged automatically. They looked at each other, then glanced away. “We need to put a watch out on all the items Lander's had in his cookbook and when Popov comes near one of them we can get him.”

“Um, it’s worth mentioning that one of the things on Lander’s list of required items is DNA from an existing specimen,” Bruce said, gesturing at Steve. “Meaning you.”

The soldier squared his shoulders. “Even better.”

 

Doctor Anderson, sadist that she was, had instructed Tony to walk for at least thirty minutes on the treadmill. His tissue was regenerating well, she said, but it needed to be exercised. Tomorrow would be his last treatment and if all went well he would essentially be good as new. He needed to keep blood flowing to his muscles in the meantime. So he found himself walking at a brisk pace to nowhere alone in the gym late into the night.

He was thinking about Steve. All day he had been contemplating an apology, trying to form one in his brain that was sufficient to the task. The problem, the insurmountable obstacle, was that he wasn’t really sorry. Sure, he regretted the way the whole ordeal had shaken out, but his part in it wasn’t anything Tony actually saw an issue with. Which, all in all, made apologizing a challenge.

The door opened behind him and he glanced over one shoulder, expecting Clint or Natasha, fellow night owls. But, instead it was Steve standing there in his workout gear looking like he might just turn and run.

“I’m almost finished here,” Tony said quickly, as though that would help.

“No, it’s all right. I...actually wanted to talk to you.”

“Haven’t I suffered enough today?” Tony asked, shooting for jest but landing way over the line. He did not turn to take in Steve’s reaction.

The soldier approached, settling his water bottle in the next treadmill over and starting off at a brisk run. His t-shirt pulled tight over his chest as he jogged. It was distracting.

“Is it safe to assume,” Steve ventured, “that you wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t being ordered to?”

Tony nodded. “You are on the ball as always, Cap. This is doctor-ordered exercise right here. Apparently, it’s the typical course of treatment for all patients whose legs were burned beyond recognition four days ago.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth twitched up. “It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No. Just feels strange, being able to walk but not knowing if my legs will actually hold me up. I’m gonna try the armor later.”

“Is that wise?”

And here they were again. Tony sighed through his nose and punched the stop button on the treadmill. “You know, actually, I think I’m done.”

“Tony, wait,” Steve said, turning off his own machine and turning toward him. Tony staggered when he stepped off the treadmill and Steve caught him easily by his upper arm. His fingers were warm.

“Look, I have a suggestion. Just hear me out,” he said, keeping a gentle hold of Tony’s arm. The other man shrugged and waited to hear him out. “Let's call a truce, all right? For the next ten minutes we’ll talk, just talk, and really try to listen to one another. I won’t be disapproving and you can try not to be sarcastic and we’ll just...get it over with. Right?”

Tony smiled crookedly. “You’ve been watching Oprah, haven’t you?”

Steve shook his head. “Dr. Phil.”

They both laughed.

“Okay,” Tony agreed. “But I have to sit down. Twenty minutes of mild exercise has done me in completely.”

“Not to mention the torture you underwent earlier this morning,” Steve pointed out and for a moment Tony wondered if Doctor Anderson had ratted him out. She probably had, the old bitch.

They sat on a workout bench, side by side, their legs almost touching. Steve took a deep breath and said, “Okay. Ten minutes. I think we can do this. I’ll go first,” Then he trailed off again, looking lost.

“Cap,” Tony said gently, “it’s me.”

“Right. Okay. So, last night. I need to start by apologizing. You were right. I did overreact. I shouldn’t have gone off like that without all of the information. This is a difficult area for me to keep perspective on, like you said. I just feel...responsible. And when things go off the rails I feel like I have to _do_ something. So, there’s that.”

“Apology accepted,” Tony replied. His own tension was gradually melting, eased by watching Steve struggle to express himself so completely.

“But, I have to say, I maintain that you should have told me. About the Landers kid. Even if you knew for certain I was going to blow up the way I did, you still should have included me. That part is still important.”

Tony was silent. He stared down at his hands in his lap. After a long moment, which Steve weathered patiently, he finally spoke.

“There’s something you have to know, Steve. And I mean _really_ understand. I’m terrible at relationships. I fail every single time for a variety of reasons, none of which are likely to change anytime soon. I’m selfish, driven by work, don’t pay attention, and _please_ don’t carry a shred of hope that I’ll remember any significant dates. It’s not that I don’t try, I do. It’s just not...I’m not good at it. Especially the sharing part.”

Steve leaned into him. “This, this is very shocking news.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to be sarcastic,” Tony shot back.

“I said _you_ couldn’t be sarcastic.”

“I highly doubt these rules came directly from Dr. Phil. Anyway, my point is that I’m terrible relationship material to begin with and if you’re still on the fence in any way this is the time to call it quits. Before I fuck it up.”

Steve looked at him with such terrible sorrow it made Tony’s chest ache.

“Is that really how you think I feel?” Steve asked.

“Yes?”

He shook his head. “Tony. I...I know who you are. It’s not you I’m objecting to, just your behavior. And that I think you can change. Hell, look at where we started when we first teamed up. We’ve come a long way since then and you've become a team player, whether you see it or not. We just need to keep working on it.”

“And you need to trust me,” Tony interjected. “That’s the other half of this equation, Steve. If I don’t tell you something, if I run off without reporting why, or I do something that seems stupid or crazy...well, it probably _is_ stupid or crazy, but I have a good reason for it.”

The soldier nodded. “That’s fair.”

“I have one other thing. You said you know who I am, and that’s great. I need you to not spend all of your time being disappointed in me. I’ve been down that road before and it doesn’t end well for anyone. If you know me and you like me and you want to be with me then cut me some slack once in awhile. And I’ll do the same for you. Relationships are hard enough without everyone projecting their shit onto each other all the time and coming up with unrealistic expectations.”

Steve ran a hand through his hair. “I thought that _was_ relationships.”

“For most people it is. But, we’re not most people, are we?” Tony posed, a twinkle in his eye.

“No, that is definitely true. But...in the spirit of being open. Tony, you have to know...I’ve never been in a relationship before. Not a real one anyway, one that requires work and communication and intimacy...and, honestly, I’m not even sure how it works with two fellas. Don’t laugh,” he warned, though Steve himself was fighting back a smile.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, I’m trying to picture you googling this,” Tony said and Steve’s answering blush told him everything he needed to know. He leaned over and put his hand on Steve’s. “There’s no wrong answer, Cap. And no right answer. That’s the point. We just...do it and figure it out. Together. If you still want to.”

Steve took his hand. “Only if I can wear the pants.”

“Where does that leave me? Barefoot and pregnant?”

“Personally, I was kinda hoping for a French maid uniform.”

Tony sat back, stunned. “Steve Rogers, you kinky bitch.”

“So,” Steve said quickly, changing the subject, “are we made up now?”

Tony nodded definitively. “I think so. This is usually the part where people have outstanding sex in order to seal the deal. But I’d hate to put any pressure on you,” he added without an ounce of sincerity whatsoever.

Steve leaned in and kissed him, the soldier’s lips hot and full of promise. Tony kissed back, winding his arms around Steve’s neck in a position that was becoming second nature. They made out for a little while, touching and kissing and exploring what they could through the barrier of clothing before Steve finally made to pull away.

“When you’re better,” he promised.

“Fuck that, I’m better now,” Tony said jumping to his feet. The subsequent wobble and almost fall did little to underscore his point. “Besides, it’s not like standing up is really required for what we’re talking about here.”

Steve stood and took the other man by the shoulders, kissing him again. “When you’re better,” he repeated.

Tony sighed. “Aren’t you impatient? I mean, it’s not like we haven’t already fucked each other. Like, a lot. We know how great we go together.”

“Sure, of course. I’m horny as hell,” Steve admitted, then realized what he’d said. Clearing his throat, he continued, “But all that was with the spell on us. The next time...the first time...without it. It might be different.”

Tony cocked his head. “Are you really worried?”

Steve looked away. “Not worried. Just...aware.”

“Oh, baby. You have _nothing_ to be aware about. You and I, we are going to make beautiful music together,” Tony said and leaned up for another kiss. When they were finished, he leaned in close to the shell of Steve’s ear and whispered, “By the way, I look _amazing_ in lace.”

Steve’s reaction told them both exactly what they needed to know about what came next.


	13. Date-Zaster 2: Even More Dated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve goes on another date and things go even worse.

"You know, I think I read somewhere that the best way to start a new relationship is by going on a date with someone else," Tony observed, leaning against the wall as he watched his boyfriend get ready. 

Steve looked at him in the mirror, eyes impossibly blue. “You’re not really jealous are you?”

Tony shook his head and stepped forward, reaching around broad shoulders to help the other man who was wrestling with his tie." You really do have issues with these, don't you? Nah, I’m not jealous, though mark my word I probably will be almost all of the time. Mostly I’m envious that she gets to spend more than an hour with you without the world blowing up and cockblocking everything.” 

Raising his eyebrows, Steve said ominously, “You never know." 

Tony knotted the tie and slid it up to the other man's throat. "I love you, you know,” he blurted. "It's just we live dangerous lives and I want to make sure you are..aware. Not leave it...unsaid. You're the best person I've ever known and I love you. So… there." 

“It's a date, Stark. A platonic friendship date. I'm not going to be eaten by a monster.”

“You never know,” Tony argued, echoing Steve’s earlier words," she could have tentacles under that dress. I'm not specifically worried about tonight, anyway. Don't make me take it back.”

Steve turned so they were facing each other, encircling the other man in his arms." I wouldn't dream of it. I know you love me.”

“And?” Tony prompted. 

“Who wouldn't?" 

“I’m gonna punch you." 

Steve laughed, a beautiful rich sound. Then he kissed Tony, long and hard. “I love you too," he said when they parted. “Always have." 

The shorter man gave a contented sigh, leaning his head against Steve’s shoulder for a moment. Then he glanced at the clock. “You better get a move on or you’ll be late for your six-thousand-dollar outing.”

“Wait up for me?”

Tony looked thoughtful." What’s in it for me?”

Steve reached down with a hand and cupped the front of Tony’s jeans with a firm grip. His cock responded immediately, draining all the blood from his considerable brain. 

“Sweet Jesus!” Tony cried and felt his legs buckle in a way that had nothing at all to do with his reconstructed tissue. 

“You're better, aren't you?” Steve asked in a husky voice. 

“One hundred percent ready for duty, Captain. Finished my last treatment today,” the last word ended in a low moan as Steve’s big hand massaged him through the denim. “Are you sure you can't just reschedule and let me drag you to bed right this damn minute?”

Steve leaned in close, his breath hot against Tony's ear. “Good things come to those who wait,” he promised.

“You're killing me. By the way, when did we go from me chasing you to you seducing me? Not complaining, I'm loving it, just inquiring for the official record.” 

Sliding his hand and letting his fingers _ drag _ along Tony's cock, Steve eventually pulled away. Then he had to adjust himself as well, conscious of the erecting pushing against his own zipper. They both took deep breaths, resisting the urge to come crashing back into each other like magnets.

“Seriously, though, do be careful.” Tony insisted. “Don't let your guard down.”

“Constant vigilance,” Steve promised, crossing his heart. And the other man was left with no option but to let him go.   
  
  


Tony killed time the rest of the night. He went for a run with Clint, enjoying his new freedom of movement and happily enduring the archer's teasing about his hairless legs. He helped Thor not burn the kitchen down while making tacos, which were almost edible. He worked, he tinkered, and he resisted the urge to masturbate powerful though it was. He waited. 

Then, in the middle of the night he jolted awake in his office chair. “What time is it?” He asked automatically.

“The time is two thirty eight am,” JARVIS reported.

“Two… What…” Tony ran a hand through his catastrophically messy hair. “Did Steve come home?”

“Captain Rogers had not returned to the tower, sir,” the AI answered almost sadly.

Tony spun his chair in circles, his brain fast at work. This was a choice point and he knew it. He could choose to trust Steve and believe that nothing fishy was going on, or he could risk being a crazy lover and be paranoid. He settled almost immediately on paranoia.

“Where is he, J?”

“Captain Rogers’s last location, according to GPS, is Marigold Towers in Manhattan. Apartment 708.”

“Whose place is that?” Tony asked, his voice tight.

“The apartment is leased to Vanessa Fielding.”

Tony's gut sank like a stone. “Nope. No way. Something is wrong. Get me everything you can on Fielding, J, and prep the suit. I'm going in.”

“Shall I summon the rest of the Avengers?” 

Tony shook his head. “I'll handle it.” He didn't add  _ just in case I'm wrong. _   
  
  


Steve saw the world as if through an aquarium. His vision was watery, sounds were muffled and indistinct. He couldn't keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds. He fought, struggling for consciousness, but kept getting sucked back down.

In retrospect it was comically obvious what had been about to happen. The meeting (Steve refused to call it a date) had gone well, if long. Vanessa was charming and funny, though she could talk the ears off an elephant as his grandma used to say. They had dinner at a little seafood restaurant which was fantastic and Steve, true to his word, did not seize up in anaphylactic shock. Then she said she had something to show him back at her place. Well, that sounded quite a lot like a line to him, but she ignored his token arguments and so Steve finally relented. 

He didn’t even get the opportunity to let her down, gently or otherwise. He stepped in the door, following her chatter, and Boyan Popov had stared back at him, sitting on the couch like he owned the place. It was difficult to assess who was more surprised to see the other, but Steve thought it might be the Russian. 

“What--” was all he got out before he felt the sting of a needle in his neck and the world went hazy at the edges. 

Now he was sprawled out on what seemed to be the couch, immobile and helpless, while his captors engaged in a heated argument. He could tell by their voices that they were upset, though he could not make out any individual words they were saying. 

Boyan Popov had shaved his head since his driver’s license picture was taken, his bald pate shining under Vanessa Fielding’s tasteful lighting. The woman herself was seated in an oversized armchair and gesturing wildly. Popov was pacing, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. His voice was low and heavily accented and dangerous as all hell. 

Steve kept waiting for his accelerated healing to kick in. Surely whatever they had given him would wear off any minute and he could take matters into his own hands. As it stood, he couldn’t even move his arm enough to get his phone out of his pocket and make a distress call to the others. He had no concept of how much time had passed. Whenever he started to gain any kind of clarity Fielding seemed to notice something in his expression and would come over with another hypodermic. He had just enough cognitive function to wonder exactly how many of those she had prepared. 

Words and phrases filtered in during periods of lucidity. “Ill prepared” and “what did you expect” and “I told you” and other recriminations from both parties. Steve was a bystander to it all, but understood very little. He only knew that this would either end with his return to full consciousness and putting both of them down or they would kill him before he could stand. 

  
  


Things were not going according to plan. Boyan Popov was a careful man, a meticulous man. Not like his brother who had been passionate and impulsive, romantic and shortsighted. And certainly not like this Fielding woman who was a downright moron. And one who had placed him in an impossible position. 

“I still don’t see what all the fuss is about,” the southerner drawled, pulling on a cigarette and casting glances at the glassy-eyed super soldier on her couch. “What could be better than the genuine article?” 

Popov turned on her, his lip curled up in a snarl. “You idiot! I knew I should not have trusted my brother when he turned to you for assistance. He was always so short-sighted, so blind. All you had to do was collect a single hair, a  _ single hair _ ,” he repeated, then swore loudly in Russian. 

Fielding narrowed her eyes. “Don’t speak ill of the dead, now. Your brother was a brilliant man.” 

Popov scoffed. “Whatever he had, he stole it from me. Always.” 

“Well, at least he had  _ something _ ,” she sneered. “You worked your whole life trying to create another Captain America and where did it get you? Ex--” 

She was cut off when Popov seized her by the throat, powerful hands cutting off her air. Vanessa’s eyes grew wide, her fingernails scratching desperately at his hands trying to pry them off. Popov gritted his teeth and squeezed tighter, veins protruding from his bald head. 

“L-look,” Fielding squeaked, her voice barely a whimper. 

Popov turned and saw her finger pointing at a blank wall. He spun back, ready to end her, when suddenly the window burst inward with a thousand shards of glass, covering them both. Iron Man sailed through and landed in a crouch on the rug. 

“Nobody move,” he said in his modulated voice. “Everybody stay real cool and we are going to figure out what the fuck is going on around here.”    
  
  


Steve was still alive. This, beyond the fact that he was right in coming here in the first place, was Tony’s greatest source of relief. Upon his arrival Fielding had collapsed onto the floor gasping and retching and rubbing her throat. She was also screaming hoarsely, something that sounded like “arrest him”. Popov stood watching him like a bird of prey, all sharp eyes and killer instinct. 

Tony approached the couch and took Steve’s hand. “Vitals,” he said and a readout appeared on his HUD. Steve was alive, but his pulse and respiration were slow. 

“What’d you give him?” Tony demanded. No one spoke up. He raised his gauntlet, firing up the repulsor with a menacing whir. 

“Tranquilizers…” Fielding gasped. 

“You must have used something pretty serious to keep him this imobile,” Tony observed, risking a glance down at Steve whose glassy eyes were open for the moment. There was a glimmer of awareness in there, a hint of the real Steve, and that was an enormous comfort to the other man. 

“Okay, kids. Here is what is going to happen. SHIELD is already on their way and they are going to want to have a word with both of you, especially you,” he said pointing at Popov who was still standing completely still. “Although  _ you _ are more interesting than I originally thought too,” he added indicating Vanessa who was rising unsteadily to her feet. 

She raised her head in defiance. “You can’t touch me, none of you can.” 

“Sugar, you can drop the down-home act. I know who you really are. Just a kid from Brooklyn, right? A kid with mutant powers but an unwillingness to play by the rules. What was this, all some elaborate plan to get back at Xavier for kicking you out? I have to say, planning may not be your strong suit, but you are quite an actress. You even had me fooled and my bullshit radar is pretty solid these days.”

Fielding actually looked proud. “Guess you know about my powers then, huh?” She asked, her syrupy southern accent abandoned. 

“Yup. It was the last piece of the puzzle. X-Ray vision, right? Pretty cool. Useful for seeing into places where you aren’t allowed to go. If I’m honest I really should have figured it out earlier, when you said that you liked what I did with my workshop, because how else would you know, right? So sloppy on both our parts, really. Hold up, big guy,” Tony said, pointing a gauntlet at Popov who had started to creep away. 

As soon as he turned, the Russian jumped into action, ducking and rolling and coming up behind Fielding who shrieked. He pressed a gun to her temple and faced Tony impassively. 

“Back away or I will kill her,” Popov said as though he were discussing the weather. 

Tony held his hands up. “Hey, all right. Okay. Relax. I’ll be honest, Boris, I don’t even know what your role is in all of this. Your brother, or what’s left of him, seemed to be the man with the plan.” 

This struck a nerve. Popov adjusted his grip on Fielding, holding her tightly and making her squeak. 

“Don’t let him kill me,” she begged hysterically. “Please. I’ll tell you everything, I’ll even help you. I--” 

Popov shot her. A wide spray of gore spread across the apartment and Tony watched it in total shock. Even Steve, who was still on the couch, twitched in what must have been surprise. Boyan cocked the gun and pointed it at Steve this time. 

“He can be killed,” the Russian said, “just like any other man. Bullets stop them all.”

“Jesus,” Tony breathed, then regarded Popov. “What were you, KGB?” 

The other man didn’t rise to the bait this time. “Does it matter?” He asked evenly. 

“I guess not. You killed your brother, didn’t you? Or maybe it might be more accurate to say that you didn't stop him from killing himself." 

Popov glanced away and that was all Tony needed to know. He started to advance, moving very very slowly, his eyes on Popov’s gun. 

“What did he do? Steal your spotlight?” 

Popov sneered. “He stole my life’s work! Never studied a day in his life and thought he could just pick up where I left off.” 

“What’d you think of what the Landers kid accomplished? Bet that stuck in your craw,” Tony continued, stalling for as long as he could, “Barely out of high school and he already unlocked the secrets you’ve been trying to access your entire life.” 

“Shut up,” Popov said and squeezed the trigger. A bullet slammed into the back of the couch, sending up a spray of stuffing. “Do not trifle with me, Iron Man. You are aware of how little I have to lose.” 

“You’re right,” Tony acknowledged. From the corner of his eye he could see Steve stirring, his arms and legs moving erratically. 

Two things happened at once then. Tony lunged for the gun at the same time an arrow came sailing in through the broken window and, upon making contact with the floor, flooded the room in gas. Popov squeezed off another shot which was followed by a grunt - from Steve. 

Tony seized the gun and crushed it in his grip, then grabbed Popov by the neck. Already the other man was losing consciousness, coughing and gasping from the combination of smoke and Tony’s chokehold. 

“I’m...okay,” Steve said in a quavering voice. “Just...my leg.” 

“Oh, you are so  _ fucking _ lucky,” Tony said to Popov in a deadly tone, then released him. Popov’s body thumped to the ground, limp. 

The smoke cleared, and Clint’s face appeared in the broken window, climbing into the room. “Hey kids,” then responding to Tony’s questioning posture, “You track him I track you we’re one big stalkery family.” 

Steve had been shot through the calf. He was still shaking off the tranquilizers, moving slowly as though underwater. His eyes refused to focus. Tony knelt by his side and flipped up the faceplate on the armor. 

“You okay?” He asked, tearing off a piece of the couch where it had been shot and using it to apply pressure to the wound. 

Steve nodded. “What is it...about leg injuries...with us?” 

Tony laughed. “I don’t know, but I wish they’d give it a rest already.” 

Steve looked at him, eyes cloudy with pain and delirium. “You came.” 

“Of course I did, stupid. Just wish I’d done it sooner.” 

Steve leaned into him and Tony wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Let’s get you to medical,” he said and picked Steve up in his arms. It seemed strange that their roles should be so quickly reversed. 

Clint snapped handcuffs on the prone Popov and hauled him up over his shoulder. “I’ll take care of this,” he said with a pat on the Russian’s backside. 

“Thanks,” Tony said, meaning everything and saw that Clint understood. He then followed the archer’s gaze to Fielding, or Andrea Carmon as she was named by her parents, where she lay on the floor. 

“I’ll, uh, get someone on that too,” Clint said. “See you both back at home.” 

“Have someone make coffee,” Tony said, tearing his eyes away from the grisly sight. 

“And waffles,” Steve added weakly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter, kids and then that's all she wrote! The plot is finally resolved. Work is done - and now? Now it's time to play.


	14. All's Well That Ends With Waffles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are revels and frozen breakfast foods

By the time they arrived at SHIELD medical there wasn’t much they could do for Steve. His leg had all but healed, the bullet wound reduced to a red pock mark on either side of his leg. Still, they cleaned him up, washing blood from the area and making him sit through a pointless examination anyway while Tony joked about getting them a punch card so the next visit would be free.

They went home together, weary and quiet. The team was waiting for them full of questions which they held until both men had consumed coffee and waffles. Steve ate an entire box of frozen Eggos with half a bottle of syrup and looked to be just getting started. Tony drank coffee until his bladder was bursting. They told their tales, filling in the gaps in the team’s collective knowledge. Tony endured the inevitable lecture about going after Steve on his own without any kind of backup and, for once, didn’t argue. When Clint pointed this out the genius just shook his head.

“She begged me not to let him kill her,” he said slowly. “Maybe if I had brought the rest of the team…”

Natasha patted him on the shoulder and no more was said on the subject.

In general, they all agreed that security measures needed to step up. The Avengers had achieved a certain level of notoriety that made it so they couldn’t operate like life was normal. Steve noted that he thought about bringing his shield on the date with Fielding, but had elected that it was unnecessary.

“We can’t think like that anymore,” Bruce said over the rim of his own coffee mug. “It’s all necessary.”

“Page one of the spy handbook,” Clint said. “Always be prepared.”

“I think that’s boyscouts,” Steve said around a mouth full of food.

The team talked and joked and enjoyed the comforts of friendship and home and food for a time before slowly drifting apart. Clint and Natasha agreed to undertake the debrief at SHIELD headquarters. Bruce was heading out to Pennsylvania to deconstruct Popov’s lab. Thor was on his way back to Asgard for a time and gave them all rib-busting hugs prior to his departure. Steve and Tony found themselves alone in the kitchen standing across the island from one another. Their eyes met and both of them smiled.

Tony moved to the coffee machine and poured himself another cup. When he turned around it was directly into Steve who was standing very much inside his personal space. Gently, Steve took the mug out of his hands and set it aside. Then he hoisted Tony onto the countertop with similar ease and kissed him. Tony melted, pressing as much of himself as he could against Steve’s hard body. He ran his hands through Steve’s hair and tried to pour all of his relief, passion, and gratitude into the embrace.

Steve’s fingers moved to the buttons on Tony’s shirt, flicking them open one by one. Tony pulled back to give him an amused look.

“Here?” He asked.

“I need you, Tony. Right now.”

“Well, I can’t argue w--mpphh,” came the muffled answer, as Steve took Tony in his arms and kissed him for all he was worth. Their tongues tangled, their hands roamed, and their blood stirred.

Steve opened Tony’s shirt the rest of the way and ran his hands over Tony’s chest, gently tracing the rim of the arc reactor. He fingered Tony’s nipples, making him gasp into the other man’s mouth and then groan when he played with them more aggressively.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Tony sighed.

The larger man bent down, brushing Tony’s shirt to the side and mouthed his neck, his collarbone, his nipples. Tony gasped and threw his head back, whacking it on the cabinet.

“Ow,” he moaned, rubbing the sore spot.

Steve paused, looking up to make sure there wasn’t any bleeding.

“For the love of God and country, do not stop what you’re doing,” Tony commanded, earning him a snort of laughter.

Steve continued licking and sucking Tony’s nipples until he had the other man making such an intoxicating ruckus. Then he stood up, wrapped Tony’s legs around his waist and moved him to the kitchen island where the larger man could lay him down flat.

This was the first time they had been with each other without the influence of the love spell between them. The fervor it had inspired, the burning impatience, was gone and in its wake they were left with some awkwardness. But there was also a great deal more laughter, more joy in the exploration. Steve found himself smiling throughout, taking his time, and letting his natural inclination towards leadership come to the fore. Tony, in turn, was more relaxed and confident in his own skin along with being rather verbal, which surprised no one.

“Ah, baby, yeah,” he said as Steve bent over him on the island and left a trail of hot saliva over Tony’s stomach as he headed towards the waistband of his pants. Then, “Ah! Ew. Oh, Steve. There’s syrup. Syrup in my hair. Oh gross,” Tony cried, laughing.

Steve looked up and found that he couldn’t help but laugh too at the way the other man’s dark lovely hair was pointing straight up in hectic spikes. “We’ll have to shower later,” he murmured.

“Maybe we should take this upstairs,” Tony suggested.

Steve looked thoughtful. “Only if you’ll make me a promise.”

“Anything.”

“We’re going to christen the dining room table at some point in the near future.”

Tony reached down and took Steve’s chin in his hand. “Have I told you that I love you? Because, seriously. I love you. So fucking much. We will christen every room in this damn _tower_ if you want to. I want you so much.”

Steve grinned and they headed up the stairs, hand in hand and giggling like a couple of teenagers about to have sex behind the bleachers. They undressed each other piece by piece, pausing to exchange kisses here and there until the fell into bed naked. Tony ended up on top, with Steve kneading his ass in his big hands. The dark-haired man began a thorough exploration of the soldier’s neck, letting his facial hair tickle the skin while his lips and tongue did their work. He was rewarded with a full-body shudder and a throaty groan.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” Tony murmured.

Steve hesitated, looking down. Despite the fact that they were both two full grown men naked in bed together he somehow still managed to look bashful.   

Tony sat up, meeting his eyes. “We did a lot of stuff, you and I. Before. What do you still think about? What turns you on?”

“Mmm,” Steve hummed thoughtfully, running his fingers lightly down Tony's sides. “Remember that time, in the shower?”

Tony grinned, “Sure I do.”

“The way you… What you said. I still think about that.”

Tony reached down and stroked Steve's cock slowly, firmly. “It's that right? You think about that while you're touching yourself?”

“Ah, yes,” Steve answered breathlessly.

“You like my dirty mouth, don't you?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna see what I can do with it wrapped around your fat dick, baby?”

Steve’s eyes rolled back in his head and that seemed to Tony to be answer enough. He slithered down the bed, taking time to work Steve's nipples with his tongue and the barest hint of teeth. Then, the prize.

“God, it's even bigger than I remember,” Tony moaned.

“Ah, you're killing me,” Steve replied, his voice husky.

Tony bent over the task at hand, letting his warm breath ghost over the head of Steve's cock, which jumped under his hand.

“Tony…” he said, somewhere between a plea and a command.

Ever eager to please, Tony tucked his dark head and took the cock in his mouth, swallowing it down and working the shaft with his hand. Steve cried out, arching his back off the bed. Tony sucked in earnest, hollowing his cheeks and sliding his mouth up and down. Steve fisted the sheets, a fine  sheen of sweat standing out on his perfect body. His hands made their way into Tony’s hair where they buried themselves and tugged gently.

Tony pulled off for a moment, his lips red and swollen. “Do you want to fuck my mouth?” He asked smiling at Steve’s incredulous look. “You can. I lost my gag reflex long ago, trust me.”

“I won't…?”

“You won’t hurt me. Just grab my hair like you did before and thrust. If anything doesn’t feel right on my end I’ll tap out,” he explained, demonstrating with a quick tap on Steve’s thigh.

The soldier nodded, eyes glassy. Tony sucked Steve’s cock into his mouth and held it there, waiting. Slowly fingers entwined in his hair again, this time more firmly and Steve gave an experimental tug. Tony slid his mouth up and then down again when his head was pushed. It didn’t take Steve long to build up enough confidence to start penetrating Tony’s throat in earnest fingers clamped tight in those dark locks.

“Tony...ah, yeah. Take it,” Steve growled, losing himself to his animal instincts. He pumped his cock forcefully and Tony took it all, breathing heavily through his nose. After a few minutes Steve's thrusts grew erratic and forceful. “I...I’m gonna shoot,” he moaned and a moment later he did.

Steve flopped back onto the pillows, panting. Tony milked his dick for a bit, then say up, giving his own hard cock a few encouraging strokes. “That was so hot,” Tony sighed.

Steve chucked. “Look at my hands,” he said holding out his palms which were shiny with syrup.

Tony laughed too. Steve opened his arms and into them the other man fell, grinning and happier than he could ever remember. The larger man rolled them over so he was on top and they kissed deeply.

“So,” Steve said conversationally, “what do _you_ like?”

Tony considered, running his fingers along the other man’s jaw. “Normally I'm more of a top, to be honest, but I have a size fetish and in your case that makes getting properly fucked a priority. Besides, you get this crazed look on your face when you're pounding away inside of me, and that is one of my favorite things.” He paused, glancing down as Steve's cock swelled. “My little Energizer bunny.”

“Do you want this?” Steve asked, reaching down and stroking himself.

“Oh yeah, baby,” Tony moaned, reaching over to the bedside table for the lube.

“Fingers first?” Steve asked, accepting the bottle and smoothing some of the slippery substance on his hands.

“Yeah,” Tony said spreading his legs.

Steve slid a finger inside him slowly, working it in and out with agonizing slowness. Tony grunted and continuing his running dialogue of pleas, encouragement, and appreciation. They worked up to two fingers, Steve sliding them in and out with some speed and force, making Tony’s head thrash back and forth on the bed.

“Okay, I’m ready. It’s time. Give me your cock.”

Steve leaned over him, poised at his entrance. “Beg me,” he demanded.

Tony’s eyes snapped open and a slow smile spread across his face. “You are just _full_ of surprises,” he marveled. “Steve, baby, love of my life, _please_ fuck me.”

He pressed forward, his considerable cock demanding entrance and finally sliding home, making both of them cry out. Steve sat back, taking a hold of Tony’s legs as he thrust tentatively back and forth.

“Harder,” Tony cried.

Steve snapped his hips forward, grunting. “Yeah, take it!”

“Oh, fuck, Steve! I'm gonna cum!”

Steve leaned over him, seizing Tony’s mouth in a brutal punishing kiss. His cock pounded against Tony's prostated over and over again, send waves of pleasure radiating throughout his body. Tony reached down and worked his cock, crying out.

“Jesus fuck!” Tony yelled and came all over both of them, the bed, and even a little on his own face. Steve rode him through it until with a deep growl he seized Tony's hips and found his own release.

“I love you,” he said quietly looking down at Tony. Then, his eyes caught the little glob of cum on the other man’s chin. “You are such a mess!” He cried, laughing hysterically.

Tony caught the giggle bug too. They held each other, sweaty and syrupy and satiated and completely infatuated and laughing their asses off.

  
  
Two weeks later, when Clint unceremoniously hauled the dining room table outside and lit it on fire no one asked any questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have reached the end of our tale. Please do let me know what you think! I love input of any kind - and thanks again to all of those who already shared their perspective. 
> 
> In other news, I am looking for a beta to review future Stony works. If you're interested, let me know in the comments. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to "Preventative Measures" (also here on AO3). The first story is not required reading, but there's a fair amount of context you're liable to miss if you haven't consumed it.


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